Paper Birds
by Arsinyk
Summary: You know the scene in PoA where Draco sends Harry a paper crane? Well, it was actually a love note and here's proof. Warning: slash
1. The Crane

Summery: You know the scene in PoA where Draco sends Harry a paper crane? Well, in case you were wondering, it was a love note and this proves it. And if you couldn't figure this out from the summery, this is SLASH. As in Harry and Draco making love not war. Get it?  
Pairing: H/D

Disclaimer: Just in case you think I'm J.K. Rowling, I'm not. I don't own any of these characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue me, I'm broke.

A/N: I'll explain how they got together in the first place later. Promise

* * *

Harry unfolded the bird, breathless with anticipation.

If you can ditch your friends, I'll meet you in the empty charms classroom during lunch...

Harry looked up and caught Draco's eyes. The blonde boy raised his eyebrows and Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod. He glanced back down at the note and saw to his relief that it had shifted to show a stick figure drawing of someone that was presumably meant to be Harry being hit in the head with bludgers by what was probably supposed to be the Slytherin team.

Harry stuffed the paper in his pocket, keeping his eyes on Snape though his mind was miles away.

Well, not _miles_ really. More like a few seats over, with Draco. Imagining just what they were going to do during lunch. It had been ages since they're last meeting. Of course, after Crabbe and Goyle had almost caught them in that broom closet... well, Draco had managed to make it look like he'd been beating Harry up instead of making out with him, but it had been a close call and they had decided to be more careful in the future, lest someone become suspicious. Of course, being more careful meant not meeting each other every day at lunch and every night after their friends were asleep and not having Draco drag him into empty classrooms to start passionately making out with him at every opportunity. And it had been almost two days since their last meeting, which had been so rudely interrupted by Harry's friends who had come looking for him.

By the end of class, Harry was so impatient to be with Draco that he thought he might just jump out of his seat and start ravishing the snotty-nosed Slytherin right there in the middle of Snape's class if he didn't get away soon. He told Hermione and Ron that he was going to go look at something in his dormitory and that he wouldn't be at lunch and left before they could even protest.

He arrived at the classroom first and dropped his books on a desk before settling down to wait for Draco. He didn't have to wait long before Draco himself entered the room. He didn't even have a chance to put down his books before Harry launched himself at the boy, catching him tightly in his arms and pressing his lips against that sweet, petulant, sneering little mouth. He was vaguely aware of Draco dropping his books on Harry's feet before he felt the boy's arms wrapping around his waist and the boy was devouring his mouth.

Somehow they managed not to trip over the books scattered on the floor as Harry pushed Draco against the frame of the still-open door, never once loosing contact with his mouth.

Oh god, he was in heaven. It had been so long, so fucking long since he'd last tasted Draco's mouth, last felt the sweet softness of the boy's lips and tongue on his and the strong warmth of his body.

After what might have been hours, but wasn't nearly long enough for Harry's liking, Draco pushed him away, gasping for breath.

"I missed you," Harry managed to gasp.

Draco smirked, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the flush of his cheeks and swollen lips and the unguarded desire in his eyes. It was still fucking sexy as hell. "Yeah, so I'd figured. You do know it's only been two days, don't you?"

"_Only_ two days? God Draco, how can you say that? I've been dying every single fucking minute of it... and that's 2880 minutes of dying, in case you were wondering."

"What, were you _counting_? Or did you actually bother to learn how to do arithmetic to figure that out?"

Harry flushed guiltily. "Actually, it's only been 2793 minutes... and yeah, I asked Hermione how to do the math."

At that, Draco burst out laughing. "You _must _have been desperate."

Harry's flush deepened. "It feels like I haven't seen you in centuries."

Draco's smile softened and he reached up to caress Harry's cheek. "Trust me, you'll never have to wait more than days to see me again."

"Even over the summer?"

"We'll find a way. I promise."

Harry smiled and pressed his mouth against the tender spot on Draco's neck. Draco arched his back, pressing into Harry's body.

"Mmmm.... dear god, love, at least let me close the door."

Somehow Harry managed to pull himself away from Draco's gorgeous body, though he was fairly sure it would have been easier and less painful to tear off his own arm.

Draco quickly closed and locked the door while Harry watched him, just barely managing to hold himself in check. When the door was locked, Harry couldn't take it any more and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist without even letting the boy turn around.

"You're hornier than a bitch in heat," Draco muttered as Harry pressed his face against the back of Draco's neck, inhaling the boy's scent. "Will you lay off? I can't concentrate with you like that and I still have to cast the diversion spell."

Harry's response was to press his lips against the back of Draco's neck, reveling in the clean, spicy taste of the boy's skin. Draco moaned.

"And I thought I had it bad."

Harry grinned against Draco's neck. "You know... I don't think we're going to be able to keep this a secret much longer."

"Not if you don't let me cast the diversion spell. What were you thinking during Defense Against the Dark Arts? You had the strangest expression on your face."

Harry laughed. "I was trying not to jump out of my seat and start ravishing you right then and there. I didn't think Snape would take kindly to his students making out in the middle of his class."

Draco managed to finish the diversion spell and turned around in Harry's arms until they were facing each other. "I don't know... he lets me do all kinds of stuff."

Harry kissed his nose.

"Harry?"

"What? I like your nose." He kissed it again, just to prove it.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "...you like my nose? My boyfriend's dating me because he likes my nose."

"I like all of you. Every little thing about you." Harry licked Draco's lips. "And we aren't really dating... we haven't even been on one date yet. We just make out in the classrooms."

"Well, if we were actually had a _date_, people would be sure to find out about us..."

Harry nodded. "You know, I don't think Snape would mind if _you_ ravished _me_ in the middle of his class... and then we wouldn't have to worry about other people finding out about us."

"_Harry!_"

"What?"

Draco just shook his head in disgust and kissed him. Harry's hands moved up and down his back, making him shiver. "You know... we really aren't going to be able to keep this a secret much longer," Draco murmured when Harry let him breath again.

Harry shook his head, pulling them backwards until he was sitting on one of the desks with Draco between his knees and his arms around Draco's neck. "No," Harry agreed and kissed him again. "When do you want to tell them?"

"I don't know... soon. I guess I should take care of my friends and you can tell yours and then we can face the entire school together."

Harry nodded. "Before we meet next?"

Draco gulped. For all that he'd mocked Harry for counting the minutes since they'd last seen each other, he hadn't really been that better off. Every second had been an aching, empty hollowness inside him. Like some essential piece of him was missing. He had originally intended to wait another few days before setting up another meeting, but when he had woken up that morning almost in physical pain from wanting Harry, with the only thought in his head being that if he didn't see Harry _right then_ he was going to _die_, he had realized that waiting another few days really wasn't an option. If they were going to tell their friends before their next meeting, they had better tell them _soon_. Like,about 30 seconds from the time they left each other. But he nodded.

Harry smiled, kissing him again. "We should be leaving soon... lunch is almost over."

Draco nodded numbly, trying very hard not to cry at the thought of loosing Harry again, even if only for one day. Harry pushed him lightly away, preventing a last kiss. Which was good, since he wasn't sure he'd be able to leave it they had kissed again. Draco forced himself to set about picking up his books from the floor while Harry gathered his own books and left. It was all he could to not to cry out or run after the boy as he left the room, and Draco's vision blurred with tears. Damn, he missed Harry already.

Somehow he managed to collect the rest of his books and leave the classroom. As he made his way to his next class, Draco resolved to tell Crabbe and Goyle about Harry within the next hour... because he wasn't sure he could last even that long.

And if they both came out to their friends before the end of their next class, they could come out to the rest of the school by making out in the corridor after class. And with that comforting thought, Draco set off to Charms class.


	2. Tell the World

Draco arrived early to charms class. As he waited for the rest of the class to arrive, he sat doodling pictures of Harry on his notebook paper. Well, it was _supposed _to be Harry... he wasn't exactly much of an artist. Of course, the scar would definitely give it away to anyone who saw it, so he had better not let anyone else see it. He wasn't overly keen on trying to explain why he was drawing pictures of Harry Potter naked and kissing someone all over his paper.

So the moment the first of the other students arrived he quickly shoved the sheet of paper into his notebook. But when class started, Draco was too busy wondering how he was going to tell his friends about Harry to do more than pretend to pay attention. It had also occurred to him to wonder what his father would think when he found out about their relationship, but he was hoping that the man would be contented by the fact that his son was at least dating a very prominent figure in the wizarding world and with luck he could appease any homophobia by promising that they would find a way to have children together. This was, after all, the wizarding world and Draco was fairly certain that in the unlikely event that no one had come up with such spells before, they couldn't really be all that hard to invent. And if all else failed, they could always find a surrogate mother or something.

So Draco wasn't really all that worried about what his father would say. At least not right now. No, now he was mostly worried about his House's reaction. Ever since his first year, he had been the unofficial leader of the Slytherins and he was even beginning to gain the respect of some of the older students. Even if the discovery that he was gay didn't shake their support and trust in him as his leader, the fact that he was dating a Gryffindor - Harry Potter, no less - was sure to smash everything he had built up over the last three years to little bits and pieces unless he was very careful.

Charms seemed to drag on forever as Professor Flitwick, who he usually found quite interesting, rambled on and on about whatever it was they were supposed to be learning. But by the end of class, he had reached a decision as to how to deal with his House. He would start by telling one of the more influential and intelligent students in his year... privately, so that he could bring them around without distractions. If it didn't seem to be going well, he would erase their memory and try with someone else. And once his House knew, he would simply continue to maintain his authority the way he had been for years. By not letting anyone get away with challenging him and by continuing to act like he was in charge.

That settled he set about considering who to tell. A girl would probably be better - that way he wouldn't have to worry about insulting their masculinity or something dumb like that. And if the girl had a crush on him, that might make it easier to get her to support him... especially if he presented it as him trusting her with his 'secret'. At least a few girls in Slytherin seemed to respond better to boys who seemed vulnerable than really macho guys.

Pansy would probably be a good choice. She was the leader of most of the girls in their year, she'd had a crush on him since they were six, and he had long since found that the best way to get her to do something for you was to make her think you were too weak and helpless to do it on your own. And didn't she have a gay uncle or something who she was always talking about? Yes, Pansy was perfect. He could tell her before dinner and come out to the rest of his House by tomorrow.

When charms was finally over Draco followed Pansy and her hoard of giggling friends out of the classroom.

"Hey, Pansy," he called casually. It wouldn't do to seem flustered here in public.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?" He glanced at her friends and added, "Alone?"

The girls burst into fits of giggles, just as Draco had know they would. Pansy nodded, smiling sweetly. "You guys go on to dinner. I'll catch up in a bit."

"Maybe more than a 'bit,'" laughed one of her friends and they all burst into more fits of giggles. Pansy made a shooing motion with her hand and they left, still giggling.

Pansy followed him into a deserted classroom. Draco closed the door behind them and turned to face her.

"Pansy... there's something I need to tell you," he began, looking as helpless and desperate as he could. "Well, I mean... I have to tell someone and your the only one I can trust, but..."

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

He bit his lip uncertainly. "Promise.... promise me you won't tell anyone else. Please? If my dad ever found out..." He looked at her imploringly.

"I promise."

"I... well I... I mean..." he stuttered, fumbling for the words. He figured that if he just said it - 'I'm gay and dating Harry Potter, deal with it' - she wouldn't really buy the whole helpless boy routine. "You see... I'm..." He looked at her, giving her the most desperate puppy-dog face he could manage and lowering his voice until it was barely audible. "I'm gay..." He even managed to blush furiously as he said it.

She blinked in surprise. "...oh." She didn't look revolted, and she wasn't yelling at him that he was a pervert, but he figured it couldn't hurt to go a little farther.

"...please... don't hate me..." His eyes were filling with tears now and his lower lip was quivering.

"No, I don't hate you!" she said quickly, as reassuringly as she could. "It's fine... I'm just a little surprised, that's all." She reached out and touched his shoulder.

He took a deep breath. "There's more," he said softly, looking away from her as if ashamed to go on.

"Yes?" Her voice was gentle, comforting. That was good.

"I'm... I love Harry."

Her hand dropped from her shoulder. "You're joking, right?"

He flushed again, staring pointedly at the floor.

"...you're not joking."

He shook his head. "No… we've been together for about a month now." He looked up at her. She didn't seem to revolted or angry. Just stunned. "That's where I've been during lunch and stuff. With him."

"You mean... it's mutual? I'm not even going to ask how that happened."

_Good, cause I'm not telling you_. Draco thought, but he held his tongue.

Pansy caught his hand, looking into his eyes. "You really do love him, don't you?"

Draco nodded sadly, thinking irritably, _I thought we'd already established that._ "I'm so tired of lying to everyone," he whispered. "I love him so much... I just want to be honest about it. But I can't trust anyone. Anyone but you."

She caught his hand. "I'm sure you could make them understand. Everyone respects you."

He looked at her sullenly. "They wouldn't if they knew."

"You don't know that. I'm sure my friends would support you, if you'd let me tell them."

"Would you?" he asked eagerly, his eyes filling with hope.

She nodded. "Sure. Is there anything else?"

Draco shook his head.

"Then I'll see you at lunch."

Draco nodded. "Thanks," he said, smiling at her. Then he quickly kissed her on the cheek. She gave him a warm smile and left. Draco watched her go, very pleased with himself. That had gone better than he had expected. If she could get her friends to support him, and he had no doubt that she could, they could get their boyfriends to at least tolerate him. And then he could deal with everyone else.

* * *

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't having quite such an easy time of things. When he arrived at his next class, transfiguration, Hermione was already there. She looked up when Harry entered.

"Hi."

"Hi," Harry responded seating himself next to her.

"So, where were you during lunch today?"

Harry looked away. Now was not the time to tell her the truth. Not when class was about to begin. "I'll tell you later," he told her, hoping she'd let it drop.

"No. You've been dodging Ron and me for weeks. Where were you during lunch, and don't tell me 'looking at something in your dormitory' because I know that's not it."

Harry winced guiltily. He had hardly thought about his friends since getting together with Draco beyond hoping they didn't figure out about him and Draco. He didn't want to tell her here. Not when the rest of the class could come in at any minute. "I'll tell you after class. I promise."

"Why not now?"

Harry gulped. "It's… personal. I promise I'll tell you and Ron after class."

Hermione gave him an appraising look, then nodded. "You'd better."

A few minutes later, Ron showed up along with Dean and Seamus. "Hey Harry," Ron greeted him, sitting down next to him. "Where were you during lunch?"

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you later, okay?" Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "I'll tell _all_ of you. After class."

Seamus and Ron exchanged a look. "You'd better."

After class, Harry managed to convince them to go up to the common room. His friends had been arguing between him telling them right there in the classroom or going down to dinner and telling them there. In the end, Hermione had taken pity on him and suggested that they go up to the common room so they could have a little privacy.

When they arrived in the Gryffindor common room, everyone else was down eating dinner, much to Harry's relief. At least he wouldn't have to explain to his entire House all at the same time.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself. When he opened him, all five of his friends were watching him expectantly.

_Just remember, _he reminded himself, o_nce you tell them you can be with Draco all you want. You won't have to lie or make excuses any more. And the sooner you tell them, the sooner you can be with Draco again._

"Well?" Ron prompted impatiently.

Harry opened his mouth. "I…" he swallowed. Dear god, he had been less frightened the when he'd faced Voldemort.

"Where were you during lunch?" Hermione tried when it became apparent that he wasn't going to continue.

Harry looked away, intently studying his hands. "I was… with Draco," he whispered too quietly for his friends to make out.

"What? Could you say that a little louder?"

Harry wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Why was he doing this again? "I said…" _Just think of Draco… think of being with Draco…_ He closed his eyes, picturing Draco in his mind. He felt a warmth spreading through his body from his lower belly at the thought of Draco that had nothing to do with the fires burning in his cheeks. "I said I was with Draco." Now he looked at them, meeting their confused gazes. "I'm gay and I love him and we've been together for about a month."

There. He'd said it. Now he just had to deal with their responses.

But to his shock and amazement, they burst out laughing. "All right Harry, enough joking," Dean chuckled.

"But I'm telling the truth!" Harry protested.

Seamus snorted. "Sure."

Harry could only gape at them. He'd finally gotten up the courage to tell them the truth and they _thought he was joking!_

Hermione smiled at him. "All right, Harry, if you really don't want to tell us, you don't have to."

"But I'm serious!"

Ron shook his head in amusement. "Come on guys, let's go down to dinner."

Harry followed them numbly down to the Great Hall.

"Hey Potter."

Harry and his friends turned around to find Draco and his cronies standing behind them. Draco was standing with his arms crossed, a lock of silver-blond hair falling over his eye. Harry's felt his heart skip a beat.

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry, a subtle question in his eyes. Harry gave him a helpless look. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

_I hope Draco's taken care of telling his friends,_ Harry thought briefly before stepping forwards. If he thought too much about what he was about to do he'd chicken out for sure.

So he didn't think, he just acted. He was better at doing things, anyway. Draco's eyes widened in surprise when he realized what Harry was doing, but Harry didn't give him time to protest before pressing his lips against that sweet little smirk and slipping his arms around the boy's waist. After a moment, Draco relaxed into the kiss, his hands settling comfortably on Harry's hips.

After a moment, Draco pulled away, raising an elegant eyebrow. Harry rested his head against the boy's shoulder, touching his lips to Draco's pale neck.

"I hope you've told your friends," he muttered into Draco's ear. Draco laughed softly, his throat vibrating slightly under Harry's lips.

"I take it you told yours."

Harry nibbled his earlobe. "Yeah. They didn't believe me."

Draco glanced passed Harry and grinned. "I think they do now."

Suddenly Harry didn't want to turn around and see his friend's reaction. The thought of standing there with his arms around Draco until everyone else left was suddenly a very appealing one. But he had to face his friends eventually, and his stomach was now reminding him that he'd missed lunch.

With one last kiss, Harry stood back and turned around to face his friends. Trying his best not to blush, he met their shocked gazes calmly as Draco, cool and confident as ever, made his way into the Great Hall. After another moment of stunned silence, his friends followed him.

Harry looked at his own friends, silently praying that they didn't decide they hated him now.

"Well," Ron began, hesitantly breaking the silence. "I guess you really were telling the truth."

Dean grinned. "Either that, or that was a really elaborate joke. But I don't see how you'd get Malfoy to go along with it."

At that, they all laughed. Hermione smiled at him. "Well… congratulations? Though I'm not entirely sure I agree with your taste in boyfriends, but…"

"What I want to know is how you two got together in the first place," Seamus broke in.

"Maybe some other time," Harry told them and together they walked into the Great Hall.

* * *

To those who reviewed: thank you so much. I'm glad you liked the first chapter.  
Inuko Metallium, here's my next update. I hope you like it. Stars-n-moons91, it's Harry and Draco because Harry's the one who got the note in the movie. Though it would actually be interesting if Harry had accedentally recieved a note meant for Ron... hmmm... goes off to consider how to write that story.  
Monica, maybe I do like thinking (and writing) about 'those things.' And I thought we already knew I was sick... Dancerdude, yup, I've got way to much time on my hands... six hours every day during the fall, winter, and spring... (i think it's commonly referred to as going to school). And as I said so Monica: I thought we'd already established that I was sick.  
And to Orange, thanks for editing these. Love ya dearly. (sirius, remus, and sesame street!! whee!!!)  
With luck I'll be able to update again some time tomorrow.


	3. Back to the Beginning

By the end of dinner, the news that Harry had kissed Draco in the hallways had spread through the entire student body. Harry had heard people claiming everything from that Harry had forced himself on Draco and Draco had hexed him to that the two of them had screwed each other right there in the halls. He pointedly ignored the stares he was getting, fixing his total attention on his meal. He even managed to resist the temptation to look over at Draco.

At first Hermione and Ron tried to talk to him, but when he simply sat there eating methodically they eventually gave up. As soon as he had finished his meal, he left the room, forcing himself not to look at Draco and to ignore the stares of the other students.

Once in his dormitory, he changed into his pajamas and dropped into bed, pulling the curtains closed around his bed. Then he lay staring into the darkness, remembering how it had begun:

  


  
  
"But Professor –"

"Silence!" Snape spat. "You will stay after and assist Mr. Malfoy in re-making his potion, which you so clumsily spilled."

Harry opened his mouth to protest that that wasn't fair, that _he_ hadn't knocked over Malfoy's cauldron, but Hermione beat him to it.

"But Professor, you've got it all–"

"Miss Granger! I suggest you silence yourself before I decide to take another 10 points from Gryffindor. Now go over there, Mr. Potter, and help Mr. Malfoy re-make his potion."

"But what about Ron, Professor?" Harry tried desperately. "You can't make him finish _our_ potion all on his own."

"Yes I can, and I am. I've already taken 10 points from Gryffindor. Do you want to make that 20? No? Then _go_!"

Harry clenched his jaw and stalked over to Malfoy and his cauldron, which was now resting on its side, the potion spilled all over the stone floor in a greenish-silver puddle. This wasn't fair. He hadn't knocked over Malfoy's cauldron; he hadn't been anywhere _near_ Malfoy's cauldron. He'd been on the opposite side of the room, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, minding his own business, carefully preparing his own potion with Ron. It had been Crabbe, clumsy oaf that he was, who had knocked over Malfoy's cauldron, but Snape, being Snape, was blaming Harry any way. And now Griffindor was down ten House points, Ron had to finish preparing their potion on his won, and Harry had to stay after to help Malfoy prepare a new potion.

Seething, Harry drew his wand to clean up the spilled potion, but Snape stopped him, asking icily, "Just what do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Harry slowly turned to face him. "I'm cleaning up the potion, like you told me to."

"I never told you to use your wand. You will clean it up by hand, understood? And remember that if you touch it, it will force you to reveal your deepest darkest secrets to whoever is around to hear."

Harry glared at Snape, but put away his wand and found a mop instead. Why on earth did he have to clean it up by hand? Weren't they here to learn _magic_? And why the hell were they making this stupid potion in the first place?

By the time he finished cleaning up the last of the spilled potion, the rest of the class had handed in viles of their potion for Snape's inspection and gone on to their next class. Only he and Malfoy remained. Malfoy had spent the class watching him with a smug, self-superior sneer, his arms folded as he sat casually in his seat. If Snape hadn't been watching him the entire class as if waiting for him to screw up, Harry would probably have just given in to temptation and slugged Malfoy. But Snape had been there, watching Harry's every move, and Harry had somehow managed to control himself.

Once he had finished cleaning the floors, Harry turned to Malfoy. "Why don't you go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron?"

Malfoy smiled at him. "But you're supposed to be helping me. Why don't you set up the cauldron and then go get the ingredients yourself?"

"Because," Harry began, trying desperately to keep his voice relatively civil, "if you go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron, we'll be done faster. And the sooner we're done, the sooner we can leave."

Malfoy smirked. "Or you could just work fast. You're the one who knocked over my cauldron, so it's your fault."

"But –"

"Mr. Potter!" Snape cut in from his seat at his desk. "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from antagonizing Mr. Malfoy. I know this may be challenging for you, but you can at least make the attempt."

Harry glared at Snape, then turned back to Malfoy.

"Are you going to get on it?" Malfoy asked. "I don't have all day, you know. And if you mess this up, you'll regret it."

Malfoy watched in amusement as Harry set about preparing the cauldron, silently cursing all Slytherins to the deepest of all Hells as he did so. After a few minutes, Snape rose.

"I'm going to leave for a few minutes," he informed the two boys. Then gave Harry a warning look. "I would appreciate it if you didn't harm Mr. Malfoy while I'm gone. I would hope I could trust a third year to be capable of acting civilly, but with you I'm not so certain."

Harry forced a smile and nodded.

When Snape was gone, Harry finished preparing the cauldron and then collected the ingredients. He started by crushing the dittany seeds, but before he could get very far, Malfoy stopped him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked in disgust, taking the pestle from Harry's hand and pushing him aside. "That's not how you grind up dittany seeds. Watch."

Harry watched over the boy's shoulder as he proceeded to grind them into a fine powder. When he was done, he set about crushing the snake's fangs. Without pausing or taking his eyes from his work, he told Harry to get to work chopping the tubeworms.

When Malfoy finished with the snake's fangs, Harry had only finished with half of the tubeworms. Malfoy gave him a look of disgust and grabbed his hand.

"Hold the knife like _this_," he told Harry impatiently as he rearranged Harry's grip on the handle. Then he showed Harry how to hold the worms with one hand and the knife with the other so that it was easier to chop them. In seconds he had chopped half of the remaining worms into neat, even quarters. Then he let Harry do the rest while he started skinning the shrivelfig.

In less than a half an hour, they had finished preparing all the ingredients. Malfoy had prepared most of them, working quickly and neatly while Harry struggled to finish his own task. Whenever Malfoy finished with one thing, he would pause to correct Harry before moving on to something else. They didn't talk, beyond Malfoy's instructions, but it was probably the most enjoyable potions experience Harry had ever had – not that that was saying a lot.

Harry added the ingredients to the cauldron, following Malfoy's quick, clipped instructions and in another ten minutes they were done. Now all they had to do was wait three minutes while it simmered and then make sure it worked.

Harry set about cleaning up while Malfoy watched the clock, carefully timing the three minutes. When they were up, he poured the potion into the waiting bowl and told Harry to clean the cauldron.

By the time Harry had finished cleaning up, the potion had cooled and was ready to be poured into a vile so Snape could test it. Harry got the vile and was about to pour the potion into it when Malfoy stopped him.

"Not quite yet." He had an odd look in his eye and Harry was suddenly quite certain that he wasn't going to like what Malfoy was about to do.

"Why not?" he asked cautiously. "It's done isn't it?"

Malfoy nodded, giving him an evil smile. "But it hasn't been tested yet."

"Snape tests it."

Malfoy shook his head. "You think I'm handing this in to Snape without first knowing that it works?" He laughed. "No, we're testing it first. Or rather, you're testing it."

"What?!"

"You do know how it works, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Of course I do, but –"

Malfoy smiled. "So what are you waiting for? All you have to do is hold the bowl and watch it and then you'll either see into the innermost depths of your soul or something else will happen and we'll know you screwed up."

Reluctantly Harry walked over to the bowl, placing his hands on the sides. He stared at the glowing silver and blue liquid, watching as it slowly began to swirl, shifting and changing color until the glow dimmed and it resolved itself into an image.

The image was of his face with Malfoy staring over his shoulder and behind them the potions classroom.

"What do you see?" Malfoy asked.

"Just the classroom," Harry told him in disappointment. Now he'd have to make it all over again. What had they done wrong?

"That's funny," Malfoy said softly. "Because I don't see anything but some dull, silvery swirls."

Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy. Or rather, he tried to. But he found that he couldn't move his gaze from the image in the bowl. He couldn't move his hands either. In fact, he couldn't move at all.

He tried to open his mouth to tell Malfoy that he couldn't move, but he couldn't even move his lips. He couldn't breath. His entire world narrowed to the image reflected in the potion and he was only vaguely aware of Malfoy muttering something like "Shit, too many jobberknoll feathers," before he descended into darkness.

He felt warm, very warm. Heat like liquid fire was spreading through his body, he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't see. There was nothing… nothing at all but the image of his face and Draco's imprinted in his mind, branded behind his eyelids.

Suddenly he felt all the heat rush from him, leaving him cold and sore. His head hurt and he felt strange. After a moment he realized he was lying on the floor. Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden light. But then he saw Draco, standing over him, looking concerned and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The only thing he could see was Draco; his only thought the boy's name. And like an angel Draco knelt beside him, taking him in his arms.

He reached out to Draco, pulling him closer, reveling in the warmth of the boy's body. And Draco held him.

After a moment, Draco pulled away and Harry realized that he had been shivering with cold, though he was warm now, and that Draco was looking at him with a confused expression.

Still dazed, Harry started to climb to his feet, but stopped as the world began to spin nauseatingly around his head.

"What the fuck happened?" he asked hoarsely.

Draco…. wait a minute. Since when was he calling him Draco? _Malfoy_ looked away from him. "I think you added too many jobberknoll feathers…"

"So what happened?" Harry asked again.

"I'm not sure," Draco – _Malfoy_ – admitted. "But it's a form of a truth serum, in case you didn't know, and jobberknoll feathers are supposed to reveal that which you would like to keep hidden. So I'd guess that you were shown something that you've been hiding from yourself." Dra – _Malfoy _(why do I keep slipping up like that?) tilted his head curiously. "What do you remember? I just saw you get all tense, then collapse."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The potion got messed up, so we'll have to make it again no matter what."

"You can't even get up. How do you intend to make another potion? We'll hand this one in and I'll tell Snape that you added too many feathers and we can go eat dinner."

Harry would have protested, but his head was hurting bloody awful now so he just nodded. Draco extended his hand to help Harry to his feet, but Harry ignored it. There was no way he was accepting the help of a bloody Slytherin.

Of course, as soon as he tried to get up the room began its spinning again and he would have fallen if Draco hadn't reached out to catch him.

Harry almost gasped at the feeling of Draco's body against his. Heat like molten lava spread out from every place they touched, flooding his body. Draco's body felt so good, so soft, so warm against his. Harry's legs gave way and he found himself sagging against the blond Slytherin. Draco slipped an arm around his waist, holding him up, and Harry's arms moved almost of their own volition to encircle the boy's waist. He pressed his face against Draco's chest, inhaling the clean, slightly spicy scent of him.

"What the fuck did you see?" Draco asked him in astonishment.

But Harry couldn't speak anymore. Suddenly his mind was filled with images of Draco and the only thing he could think or say was Draco's name, and maybe 'holy shit.' His world began and ended with Draco, and for several seconds he couldn't even move, he was so overwhelmed by Draco.

Without thinking, he turned his head upwards and brushed his lips against Draco's. The boy's eyes widened briefly and he tensed against Harry, but then he relaxed, kissing Harry back.

When they parted, Harry stepped away from him, unable to meet his eyes. _What the hell just happened?_

"I–" he began, wondering how he was going to explain his actions when he wasn't sure he understood them himself.

"What?" Draco's voice was curt, tense.

"I'm sorry… I… I don't know what… I mean… I–"

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, confused. "What?"

"Shut up."

"But–"

"I said shut up," Draco snapped. Then he turned on his heel and left the dungeons – fled them, really.

Harry poured the potion into its vile and left it on Snape's desk, then trudged upstairs to the Gryffindor common room.

He had missed dinner and now Ron was playing chess with Dean. Hermione had presumably already gone up to bed. Ron looked up as he entered the common room, inviting him over. But Harry shook his head, saying that he was tired and wanted to get to bed early.

In his dormitory, Harry had lain awake for hours, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened down in the dungeons with Draco. _Draco_. He rolled the name around inside his head, silently forming the word with his lips. He liked the name. For a moment he considered trying to call him Malfoy again, but then decided it would be too much work. What was the harm in calling him Draco, at least to himself?

As he pondered this (and other deep, important questions of life, the universe and, mostly, Draco Malfoy), he heard a tapping outside his window. He rolled over, trying to ignore it, but it just got louder. Finally he hauled himself from his nice, warm bed and opened the window, shivering as the chilly, night air touched his skin.

Almost before the window was completely opened, something large flew in, almost knocking him over. It was an owl – surprise, surprise – but not just any owl. It was an eagle owl that looked suspiciously like the one who delivered Draco's letters from home. It soared around the room, then landed heavily on Harry's bed, holding out its foot so that Harry could retrieve the letter. Yawning, Harry did so, and the owl took off into the night. Sighing, Harry closed the window and returned to his bed. He pulled out his wand, muttering _lumos_, and opened the letter.

_If you really want to, meet me in the astronomy tower tonight at midnight. _

Short and to the point. It was unsigned and written in an unfamiliar hand, but Harry had a fairly good guess who it might be. So now the only question was whether or not he really wanted to go. His head told him that it would be a really bad idea. And why on Earth would he _want_ to meet Draco? But the rest of him, inexplicably, desperately wanted to go.

In the end, he decided that it wouldn't hurt anything to at least see what Draco wanted.

  


  
  
Harry froze, holding his breath and pulling his invisibility cloak tighter around him. He listened intently, wondering if he really had heard something or if it had just been his imagination. It had been so quiet, but…

There it was again. Footsteps, getting closer. Harry held his breath, pressing himself against the wall as Filch rounded the corner, the light from his lantern momentarily blinding Harry. Filch paused, looking around suspiciously. Harry closed his eyes against the light, thinking that at any moment Filch would somehow notice him. But after a few moments he continued along the corridor, his light vanishing as he rounded another corner and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

When he could no longer hear Filch's footsteps, Harry let out his breath and continued. He reached the base of the stairs to the astronomy tower without encountering anyone else and discarded his invisibility cloak behind a nearby statue. There was no way he was letting Draco know he owned one. He reached the top of the stairs and climbed out onto the tower to find Draco already there and waiting. At the sight of the blond haired boy, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least Draco hadn't tricked him into coming and then told Filch, the way he had in their first year when he had challenged Harry to a duel.

Draco was standing at the edge of the tower, his arms resting on the edge of the wall that surrounded it as he stared out over the Hogwarts grounds. His platinum hair seemed to glow with a light of it's own in the moonlight and his robes seemed rimmed with silver. He looked surreal, like a spirit or a ghost.

Then he turned around to face Harry, staring intently at the darker haired boy. Harry felt his breath catch as he met those hard, cold silver eyes. He had always known the boy was good-looking (Ron had once muttered that he probably used more beautification spells than Lavender), but now he seemed truly otherworldly. Like an ancient god come down to earth. It was probably the moonlight (or maybe it was just that for once, he wasn't sneering), but whatever it was, Harry suddenly felt an almost overwhelming –and disturbing – desire to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him and make him real.

"Well, well, well," Draco murmured, breaking in on Harry's thoughts. Draco was smirking slightly again, and Harry tensed. "So you came."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked tightly, careful to remember to use the boy's last name.

Draco laughed. "You really _are_ slow, aren't you?"

"Malfoy –" Harry began warningly.

"Oh come on, we're alone. You can call me 'Draco.'"

Harry sighed. "Alright, Draco. What do you want?"

Draco gave Harry a pleased, smug smile and crossed his arms. "What do you want?" Harry stared at him, confused, and Draco gave a tolerant sigh. "Why are you here instead of safely sleeping in your bed? Why did you come to meet me tonight?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then realized that he himself wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here.

Draco gave him an exasperated look. "Alright Potter, let me make this really easy for you. Why did you kiss me in the potions room earlier today?"

Harry flushed at the memory. Why _had _he kissed Draco? He wasn't entirely sure himself. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Alright, let me give you a hint," he said, his voice overly patient. Then he stepped forwards, easily closing the distance between them, and caught Harry's shoulders, fiercely pressing his lips against Harry's. Harry opened his mouth to protest and Draco pushed his tongue between Harry's lips. For several seconds Harry was simply too stunned to do anything, either to respond or to push Draco away, and Draco took the opportunity run his hands up Harry's neck until he had his fingers buried in Harry's hair as he devoured the boy's mouth. Then Harry relaxed instinctively sliding his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him closer as he kissed the boy back.

That was when Draco pulled away, his pale cheeks slightly flushed and his lips still parted. "So?" he asked harshly.

Harry reached out towards him, his only thought that he needed, _needed_ to pull Draco back into that kiss. But Draco pushed him away, his eyes hard and cold. "Tell me why you're here," he snapped. "Tell me or I'm leaving and pretending nothing ever happened."

Harry stared at him, confused. "…because… because I want you…"

Draco stared into his eyes as if trying to probe the depths of his soul. "If you're lying, I'm going to kill you," he hissed. Then he kissed Harry again, and this time he let Harry kiss him back.

  


  
From then on, they had met every day while their friends were at lunch and again every night after their friends were asleep. Draco had also gotten into the habit of dragging him into deserted classrooms whenever they encountered each other alone in the corridors and Harry had formed the habit of going to his classes alone and taking the route most likely to cross with Draco's.

A week after they first met in the astronomy tower, as they sat holding each other in an unused classroom, Draco had asked Harry what he had seen when he had looked into the bowl in potions, and Harry had told him that he had seen their faces. Then Draco had told him that he had done some research and talked to Snape about the potion (Snape had deducted five points from Gryffindor for Harry messing up and given five to Slytherin for having to put up with Harry's incompetence). Draco had told him that the potion would have revealed something that the person who had looked into it had been hiding from themselves. But according to Snape, the potion would try to reveal everything that the person was trying to hide from themselves, from how much they needed to study for their next test, to saying something stupid and embarrassing in front of their friends, to having a secret obsession with the color purple. It would have had no focus and would have been too much for the person who attempted to use it to cope with or it wouldn't have worked at all. But Draco thought that maybe since _he_ had also looked into it, it had shown Harry something they were _both_ hiding from themselves, or from Harry, or maybe something Draco wanted Harry to know that Harry wanted to hide from himself. Or something like that, meaning that since Draco had had a crush on Harry since the day they had met (Harry had almost choked at that), Harry had been forced to realize that he didn't hate Draco anywhere near as much as he might have wished. Or something like that.

  


  
The sound of the other boys entering his dormitory brought Harry back to the present, and he lay still, not really wanting to face them just then. They must have thought he was asleep, because after a few minutes of silence Dean said, "Imagine that… not only is Harry gay, but he's sweet on that stuck-up Slytherin bastard." Harry resisted the urge to jump out of bed and sock Dean for that. How dare Dean call his boyfriend a stuck-up bastard? But he wanted to hear what his friends would say about him, to know what they thought now that they knew the truth, so he stayed still.

"Yeah," agreed Seamus, his voice temporarily muffled as he pulled his nightshirt on. "I thought they hated each other."

Laughter. "I guess not."

"I can't believe he waited so long to tell me," Ron complained. "I'm his best friend, and he didn't even tell me!"

Harry closed his eyes guiltily at that. He could say that he hadn't known how or that he'd been afraid of loosing his friends, but the truth was that ever since that night in astronomy tower, he had hardly thought about his friends beyond hoping they didn't catch him with Draco.

"Oh come, Ron," Dean said. "He was probably just terrified of our responses. I mean, we didn't even believe him until he snogged Malfoy in front of everyone."

"But I'm his friend! He should be able to trust me!"

"Yeah, but, well, I'm not sure what the wizarding world thinks of it, but being gay isn't exactly encouraged in the muggle world. And if his aunt and uncle are the prudes they seem to be, they probably think being gay is only one small step above being a serial killer or a terrorist."

"Yeah, almost as bad as being a wizard," Seamus broke in with a laugh.

"Or maybe even worse. He's probably had a tough time admitting to himself, much less anyone else. And as I said, I don't really know how the wizarding world feels about that sort of stuff, and I'll bet he doesn't either. He's probably scared shitless that you'd hate him for it or something."

"But I'm his _friend_!" Ron protested. "I would never hate him. Not for something as silly as being gay. Falling for Malfoy, that I might be worried about, but being gay? That's just dumb."

"But he didn't know that. It's not like you've talked about it or anything, have you?" Dean persisted.

"Well, no," Ron admitted.

"You know," Seamus broke in. "There are even some wizards who don't exactly approve. The wealthy ones don't really care, as long as they get kid to continue their bloodline or whatever, but some of the poorer ones think it's sinful. My mum once told me that it was rumored that You-Know-Who was gay himself and so were all the Death Eaters. Not that I believe it or anything, but people do say it. And if he's with Malfoy, well, Malfoy's a pureblood and his parents were Death Eaters, so maybe he was afraid that you'd think he was betraying you for Malfoy."

Ron sighed. "I still wish he'd told me."

"He did tell you," Dean pointed out. "It's not like you accidentally caught him snogging Malfoy."

There was a long silence, then Seamus said awkwardly, "Let's get to bed. We can talk to Harry in the morning."

Harry heard them climb into bed. He lay awake long past when his friends presumably had fallen asleep, thinking over the day. Every time he remembered his telling his friends and then showing them in the entrance hall, he felt his face burn with a mingling of embarrassment and lust.

Part of him was dreading the morning when he would have to face his friends, not to mention the rest of the school and, of course, Draco. But part of him just wanted to get it over with. And he missed Draco.

He closed his eyes, rolling over onto his side, and imagined that Draco was lying spooned against him. He lay there, loosing himself in fantasies of Draco as he drifted into sleep.

* * *

A/N: I told you I'd explain how Harry and Draco got together. I know it's a little corny, but I didn't want to focus the entire story on how they got together. Kashiaga, I'm glad you like this. I'll admit that H/D doesn't usually make much sense and I'm glad you like my story. Orange, I think I'll be updating pretty frequently for a while at least. So yay!  



	4. Slytherins

Harry gave Draco one last kiss, then turned around to face his friends. Friends. Right. And now he had to deal with his own friends. This wasn't really how he had planned on coming out to the school – not that he minded; it just meant that things were moving a little faster than he'd planned on, which wasn't really a bad thing.

But he did have to maintain his hard-won position as unofficial leader of the Slytherins, which meant that he couldn't pull Harry into another kiss, much though he wanted to.

His face fell almost instinctively into a mask of cool, calm superiority and he automatically shift his posture so that he stood tall and proud and utterly in control. He walked smoothly into the Great Hall and took his seat, leaving his friends to straggle in behind him. All around him he heard the other students whispering amongst themselves and he could feel their eyes on him. Down the table, Pansy was talking with her friends, confirming that yes, Draco was gay and with Harry and no, that wasn't a bad thing.

Crabbe and Goyle sat down next to him uneasily and he gave them a cold, questioning stare. If they were going to challenge him, this was their chance. But after a few seconds they looked away and seemed to force themselves to relax.

Across the table, Blaise and Marcus were muttering something about filthy, stuck-up faggots and turncoats. Draco caught Marcus's eyes, challenging him to say something and the older boy fell silent. Bliase on the other hand met his gaze angrily.

"So, is this how you show your Slytherin pride?" he asked, voice dripping with scorn. "By screwing that filthy little mudblood _Gryffindor_? The Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived? What next? Are you one of Dumbledore's minions now?"__

Draco gave him an icy smile. "What, jealous of my boyfriend?"

Blaise snorted. "Hardly. I wouldn't screw you if you were the last pureblood on earth. Faggot."

"You're one to talk. You know the only reason you're even here is because your dad was screwing You-Know-Who."

"How dare you?"

Draco smirked. "How dare I what? It's true. The only reason your father lived long enough to have you is because he was You-Know-Who's boy-toy. Otherwise he'd have been killed right along with all the other muggle-lovers."

"My father is _not_ a muggle-lover!"

"That's not what he said before You-Know-Who started fucking him. Not that it matters, really, but you must remember that it was You-Know-Who who showed you father the truth about muggles."

"Faggot," Blaise muttered again.

"You know, I thought it was supposed to be the muggles who got all bent up over gender, not us wizards."

Blaise turned his attention to his meal, letting it drop for now. Feeling quite satisfied, Draco followed suit and dug in. While he had probably lost Blaise's loyalty permanently, he had succeeded in making the other boy look like an idiot and it was unlikely that anyone else would dare challenge him.

For a moment, Draco considered sneaking a glance at Harry to see how he was holding up, then thought better of it. He was the leader of the Slytherins and right now the entire school was watching him intently. It wouldn't do for them to catch him nervously sneaking glances at his boyfriend. So instead, he turned his head, openly watching Harry as the boy slouched silently in his seat. Hermione caught Draco's eye and he met her gaze with a possessive stare. _Don't even **think** about stealing my boyfriend._ She looked away and Draco turned back to his meal.

It looked like Harry wasn't holding up very well at all, but Draco could do nothing about it. So he simply focused on getting through dinner.

When Draco arrived in the Slytherin common room after dinner, he was greeted with the stares. His Housemates had supported him during dinner, of course. He was a Slytherin and they had to at least appear to stick together in front of the rest of the school. Which gave him that much more of a chance to keep his position among them, but that didn't mean he was done dealing with them. Not by a long shot.

So he seated himself easily on one of the couches and met their gazes. A few looked away, but the rest continued to stare.

"Yes?" he prompted when it became clear that no one was going to say anything. They looked away and Draco smirked.

Slowly conversation resumed around him. He almost laughed when he overheard Pansy giggling with her friends saying, "But they look so _cute_ together."

Blaise was nowhere to be found, though he had been the first to leave dinner. He was probably up in his dormitory, sulking. Well, Draco could face him later.

Eventually Draco sighed and told Crabbe to go get his homework. It wasn't like he could slack off just because he had a boyfriend. That would loose them house points and then his Housemates really _would_ hate him.

By the time he finished his homework, most of the other students had already gone up to bed. He put away his books and set about climbing the stairs to his dormitory. Most of the time he liked having the common room in the dungeons so he could seem sinister with his actual bedroom at the top of the tower where he could wake up with golden sunlight filling his room, but there were times he wished that the tower wasn't quite so high. Of course, Snape said it was good exercise climbing up and down the spiral stairs leading to their rooms, but just now Draco really wished he didn't have quite so far to climb.

When he arrived at the top, he was only slightly out of breath. Thankfully, the other boys were already sound asleep, so he didn't have to deal with any of them just now. He found his pajamas and decided to take advantage of the fact that his friends were all asleep and take a shower now instead of in the morning. He wasn't quite ready to deal with their response to him seeing them naked, knowing that he was gay. Eventually he'd have to, but not yet.

He went to bed clean, relaxed, and eager to see Harry again. Maybe he could catch the boy in the halls on his way to breakfast. He was in the middle of planning just how he'd manage it when he drifted into sleep.

* * *

A/N: This one's kind of short, but I'll have another longer one tomorrow. Stars-n-moons91: thanks. I sort of feel like the whole using a potion two make them fall in love concept is a little overused, but whatever. And I'd love to hear any ideas you've got for a Draco/Ron Crane story (I've got a few of my own)  



	5. Draco

Draco woke early the next morning, rested and eager to see Harry again. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was 6:00 am – way to early to expect Harry to be awake. Damn. For a moment, he considered going back to bed, but decided he was too restless to sleep.

Instead, he got climbed out of bed, shivering a little as the cold morning air hit his skin. With an irritated sigh, he walked over to the window, firmly closing it.

_Why the fuck can't anyone remember to close the damned window before going to bed?_

He wouldn't have minded it as much, except that it got _cold_ this high up during the night. And Draco really hated waking up cold. He changed quickly into his robes, taking advantage of the opportunity to delay his friends seeing him naked just a little longer. Then he paused in front of his mirror, muttering a few quick spells to straighten and tidy his hair and conceal his pimples and the slight circles under his eyes. Then he went down to the common room. A gust of warm air hit him the moment he left his room. Damn, he _had_ to get them to remember to shut that window.

He was the only one in the common room this early, and after the chill of his dormitory, the common room was uncomfortably hot. So after a few minutes he went outside, found his broom, and took to the air.

He loved flying, absolutely loved it. He loved the feeling of freedom and power that surged through his veins when he was in the air, loved the knowledge that the only thing between him and a long plummet to his death was a skinny stick of wood.

He flew high over the castle, soaring upwards – higher, higher, higher, until the air thinned around him and he dropped into a dive, straight towards the ground, leveling out over the Forbidden Forest. He flew over the Hogwarts grounds until his cheeks and fingers were numb with cold. By that time, it was almost 8:00 and breakfast was undoubtedly well underway.

He dropped his broom off in the broomshed and entered the castle – just in time to meet Harry and his friends as they descended the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Draco couldn't have planned this better if he had tried. Harry spotted him the moment he entered and whatever he had been saying to Ron died on his lips. For a moment, he just stared at Draco, his lips parted with lust. His friends followed his gaze, tensing when they saw what had caught Harry's attention. Then a grin spread over Harry's face and he ran down the remaining stairs, catching Draco in a warm embrace, which Draco returned with a laugh. His lips easily found Harry's and they kissed passionately before Harry stepped back, catching his breath and grinning.

"You're in a good mood," Draco commented, his arms resting easily around Harry's waist.

"Mmm," Harry replied, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Draco almost laughed at Harry's expression, especially when Harry nipped at his nose, his friends apparently forgotten. Draco loved it when Harry did that. At first, he had found Harry's fascination with his nose somewhat strange, but there was something just so cute, so sweet and _innocent _about it.

A soft "ahem" brought them both back to the present and Harry turned around to face his friends, his arm still around Draco's waist.

"Are we going to go eat breakfast, or are you two just going to make out for the next hour?" Hermione asked. She seemed in better humor than Draco had ever seen her in, which wasn't really saying much. But it was still a good sign and Harry seemed much more relaxed than the previous night.

"I don't know," Harry said with a grin. "The second one sounds pretty tempting."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron shook his head, saying, "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but _I'm_ going to go eat something."

Hermione and the other Gryffindors followed Ron into the Great Hall and Draco turned back to Harry. "I take it your friends believe you now?" Harry nodded, smiling, and kissed Draco briefly in the lips. "Wait for me here after breakfast, okay?" Harry nodded again and Draco pulled away from him and entered the Great Hall, his usual icy mask settling comfortably over his face.

  


  
  
Draco lay restlessly on his bed. It was well past midnight and he still cold get to sleep. He couldn't think of anything but when he'd next see Harry, and the thought of having to wait another eight hours until the breakfast seemed an unbearably long time. He was half-tempted to just get out of bed and find a way to get into Harry's dormitory. At the very least, he could pass the time trying to figure out how to manage it.

And honestly, that frightened him. It frightened him to realize that the thought of waiting a few hours to see Harry again seemed almost unbearable. He had hoped it would become easier to be away from Harry after coming out to the school, and in a way it was. He didn't have to worry about people finding out anymore, and it was easier to see Harry now that everything was out in the open. But that didn't change the fact that he couldn't stand being away from Harry for more than a few minutes without feeling like he was going to go crazy. And that scared him.

The realization that he needed to be with Harry that much made him feel lost and out of control. And Draco hated feeling out of control. It amazed and appalled him to think about just how possessive of Harry he was becoming. Every time he caught anyone else even _looking_ at Harry, he'd feel a surge of possessive jealousy. And the thought that Harry was right now sleeping in a room with four other boys made Draco want to run off and make sure none of them were so much as _thinking_ about Harry.

It had occurred to Draco that perhaps they should try spending some time apart, get a little distance so they could remember who they really were. But then he remembered trying to stay away from Harry before, in their attempt to keep their relationship a secret, and realized that that wouldn't work. Which scared him. In fact, their whole relationship frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

How had he allowed _anyone_ to gain that much control over him? And what would he do if Harry ever found another boyfriend? Dear gods, now _that_ was a scary thought. And it shouldn't be. He should be able to just get over Harry and move on with his life, but the mere thought of loosing Harry made him want to hold the boy as close as he could.

And then there was Blaise and the other Slytherins to deal with, not to mention his parents and the media…

Draco swallowed, wondering if maybe this relationship was just too much work, too much stress for him to deal with. If he could just back out now, dump Harry and walk away, before it was too late and he lost himself entirely… but it already _was_ too late.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point long before the incident in potions class that had started all of this he had stopped being able imagine a life without Harry. And he knew for a fact that they couldn't go back to being enemies.

Damn, this wasn't getting him anywhere. With a sigh, Draco hauled himself out of bed, pulling on his robes over his pajamas. He considered going through with his thoughts of breaking into Harry's dormitory, but decided against it. Instead he went down to the common room and seated himself in front of the fire still burning merrily away.

He curled up in the chair and lost himself in his book. At first he wasn't really paying attention – his thoughts kept drifting back to Harry – but eventually he became sufficiently absorbed in the book to stop thinking about Harry, if only for a few minutes. When the words began to blur before his eyes, he closed the book and drifted off into a sleep where he dreamed that he was with Harry.

* * *

A/N: I don't really know where I'm going with this in the immediat future, but I've already planned several scenes that take place ages in the future, which is sort of irritating... so I guess I've just got to keep writing : P  
Kashiaga: Thanks for reading and sticking with my stories : )  
Stars-n-moons91: I'll keep thinking about it... it is an interesting idea and I'll see if I can write it when I have some (more) spare time. And I thought I'd reviewed your story... guess I forgot to Sorry ....goes off to fix that.....  



	6. Harry

Harry picked at his meal, trying hard not to glance over at Draco. When he had woken up that morning, he had been expecting to find that his friends had rethought their easy acceptance of his relationship with Draco, or at least staring at him and generally making a big deal out of it. But if anything, his friends seemed to have forgotten about the whole thing, beyond making a point of turning away from him as they changed.

When he had come downstairs and met Hermione, she had given him an odd look before almost visibly redirecting her attention at Ron, asking him if he had had trouble with their transfiguration homework. Instead of rolling his eyes as he normally would have, Ron had responded by pulling out his homework and asking her to look it over. And when she had then launched into a detailed critique of his work, explaining each and every mistake he had made in almost painful detail, not only had Ron not told her to shut up, he had listened attentively to her explanations. It had taken Harry a few moments to figure out what was going on, but when he did he had almost laughed – whether out of relief that his friends still apparently cared about him, amusement at their uncertainty as to how to treat him, or simply the sheer absurdity of their current conversation, he wasn't sure.

After a few minutes, he had gotten tired of their pointed attempt to avoid discussing his relationship with Draco and had rather bluntly broken into their conversation, saying, "You could always just ask me about Draco. I really don't mind."

Ron and Hermione had given him startled looks and then Hermione had flushed. When it became apparent that Hermione wasn't going to say anything, Ron had sighed, saying, "Alright then. How the hell did you get together with _Malfoy_ of all people?"

Harry winced. He supposed he should have seen that one coming. "It's a long story. Basically… well, you remember that time in potions when Snape made me stay after to help Draco make a new potion after Crabbe knocked over his cauldron? Well, Draco had me test the potion before handing it in and apparently it hadn't come out right because… well…" Harry could feel his ears burning. Dear god, this was going to sound so corny. Because it had shown him what he truly wanted and that was Draco? He swallowed, trying to think of a better way to say it and didn't come up with much. "…err… well we're not sure exactly what it did, but that night I got a letter from Draco asking me to meet him and I did and… right." Harry's face felt so hot now that it he was surprised his robes hadn't caught fire.

Ron looked slightly confused, but Hermione looked quite interested. "Do you know what you did wrong? In making the potion, I mean."

"Uh… Draco said something about adding too many jobberknoll feathers…"

Hermione nodded. "Hmmm… we were making the self-discovery potion that day, right?"

Harry nodded and Ron gave her an irritated look. "How do you remember these things?"

But Hermione was already lost in thought. She had been thoughtfully silent as they walked down to breakfast, but that was hardly unusual and Ron seemed to be acting normally again. All in all, Harry had been in a very good mood when he they had descended the stairs to the Entrance Hall and spotted Draco just coming in.

And the sight of Draco had, quite simply, made his day. He had looked amazingly beautiful – pale skin flushed pink from the cold air outside, eyes sparkling with exhilaration from his presumed flight, platinum blond hair mussed from the wind… In the past month, Harry had learned a lot about Draco, including that he loved to go flying first thing in the morning. And Harry had decided that Draco looked the best just after he had been flying. He looked so happy, so innocent and alive – like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.

Harry hadn't been able to suppress the grin that spread over his face and without thinking about it he had ran down the stairs, wrapping his arms around Draco. Draco had laughed – really laughed, without any of his usual sarcasm or mockery – and hugged him back.

Hermione had brought him back to the real world, asking if they were going to eat or just make out all morning. And Harry had been relaxed enough to grin and tell her that making out with Draco all morning didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Now Harry was willing breakfast to be over as soon as possible so that he could be with Draco again. Finally, he gave up and glanced over at Draco. He had intended for it to be a quick, casual glance, but Draco met his eye, giving him an intense, heated, possessive gaze that made Harry flush. Draco had smiled at him, making Harry's breath catch in his throat before turning back to his conversation with Marcus Flint. Harry turned back to his breakfast, his entire body flooded with heat.

Hermione had left breakfast early, saying that she wanted to look at something in the library, and a few minutes later Harry had given up trying to eat and left the Great Hall. He had only had to wait in the Entrance Hall for a few minutes before Draco had come, slipping his arms around Harry's waist and briefly kissing his lips.

"You want to go outside or something?" Draco asked softly. Harry nodded and Draco took his hand, leading him outside.

Since they had about a half an hour before class, they decided to go flying. Not wanting to waste time going to get their own broomsticks, they decided to just use the school's brooms. It wasn't like they were going to be doing any fancy flying or anything.

Harry had forgotten just how low quality the school's brooms actually were, but after a few seconds in the air he got used to it.

"So," Draco called over the roar of air in their ears. "Where all did that hippogriff take you?"

Harry laughed. He had used his invisibility cloak to visit Draco in the hospital wing the night after the hippogriff 'attacked' him and Draco had made him promise to show him where all the hippogriff had taken him. Now Harry happily retraced his path with Draco following close on his tail.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about getting the last chapter of the other story mixed up with this... stupid me.  
Anyways, here's the next little bit of this story... (I'm so smart)  



	7. Hermione Knows All

During lunch that day, Hermione had asked him if he knew how many extra jobberknoll feathers he had added to the potion. It had taken Harry a few moments to figure out what potion she was talking about, but when he did he had shrugged and shaken his head.

"Something like one or two? I think?" he offered helplessly.

"Thanks," Hermione had said with a quick smile before turning her attention to a book she had taken out from the library that morning. A few minutes later, she had looked up. "I think I've figured out what that potion would have done, more or less."

"Oh?" Harry was actually interested in what she had figured out, though Ron was rolling his eyes.

Hermione nodded. "Okay, the potion would have shown you something about yourself, since it was a self-discovery potion and that's what they do. But because of the extra jobberknoll feathers, it would have revealed something hidden – or something that you've been trying to keep hidden, since that's what the jobberknoll feathers do. They fight the person who took the potion's resistance against telling the truth. But since it was undirected – you didn't tell it anything specific to look for – either it wouldn't have worked, nothing would have happened because it was never activated, or it would have caught your mind in every memory you don't want to remember, which would have driven you insane in seconds. Assuming we could bring you back. So either I screwed up or there's something you didn't mention."

Feeling somewhat disappointed since Draco had already told him that much, Harry was about to tell her that she must have made some mistake, since he'd told her everything that had happened, but then he remembered Draco mentioning that his presence might have influenced things.

"Well, Draco mentioned that the fact that he was looking over my shoulder might have affected things…"

Hermione nodded thoughtfully and turned back to her books.

That evening in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had caught him again. She seemed more interested in what the potion had done that in the fact that her best friend was dating the boy who _had_ been his worst enemy. Not that Harry really minded. Mostly he was relieved that she didn't hate him.

"I think I've figured out what happened," Hermione said, once she had his attention. "Now at first it occurred to me that because you would have seen Draco's reflection that would have focused the potion on him, but then I realized that that wouldn't work, since you wouldn't have seen his reflection because the potion wouldn't show his reflection. Then I thought that since he was the only other person there and your thoughts would have been focused on him that might have provided the focus, but I don't think that would have worked – well, not on it's own, anyway, though it could have contributed to things, but that isn't important now–"

"Hermione!" Ron cut her off irritably. "If you have to tell us, could you at least get to the point. We don't need or want to hear every thought that passed through your head on the subject, okay?"

Hermione flushed. "Fine. Malfoy wasn't affected by the spell, was he?"

Harry shook his head and Hermione nodded.

"Good. Because he looked into it after you, it simply used him as a sort of focus instead of effecting him as well. The spell looked at what was foremost in your mind as a focus, which was presumably the potions classroom and Malfoy. So it looked for something that had to do with Malfoy since he was looking too. It would have gone through every memory you have involving Malfoy and shown you the thoughts that with most resistance – namely the ones that had to do with you being attracted to him."

"But all I saw was him looking over my shoulder into the potion," Harry protested. "The I blacked out."

Hermione looked surprised. "How do you get from seeing him looking over your shoulder to being his boyfriend?"

Ron gave him a curious look. "Yeah, that seems like something of a stretch to me."

Harry sighed, blushing. Why couldn't Hermione just accept that they were together? "When I came too, the first thing I did was kiss him."

"Oh." Hermione paused. "Well, it must have gone through your memories while your were unconscious and then since there weren't any specific memories, it just made you feel the most denied feeling."

"Now you're just making things up," Ron commented before turning back to his homework.

"What, do you have a better explanation?" Hermione snapped.

"Nope," Ron replied without looking up from his homework.

Hermione sighed and turned back to Harry. "But that would mean that Malfoy already liked you and knew it. Because the potion didn't did anything to him. I'm sure of that."

Harry shrugged, looking away. "Yeah, he mentioned something about having had a crush on me or something."

Ron scowled. "Wealthy prick."

"Ron!" Hermione looked appalled.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, confused. Not that he liked having his boyfriend referred to as a prick, but why would it bother Hermione that much?

"Well it's true!" Ron muttered defensively. "I mean, not only is he a pureblood, but his parents were bloody _Death Eaters_. His dad probably slept with You-Know-Who! I'll bet that's how he got all his money and stuff."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped. "How _dare_ you say that?"

Ron glared at her. "What, just because he's screwing Harry means that his dad didn't sleep with You-Know-Who?"

"First of all, I don't think they've actually screwed each other –" Hermione glanced at a thoroughly confused and very red Harry for confirmation. Harry shook his head, blushing hotly. "And secondly, you have no reason – _no reason­ _– to think that Mr. Malfoy was sleeping with You-Know-Who. According to _Hogwarts a History_,Malfoy's have been a wealthy, pureblood family for centuries."

"Err… is anyone going to explain this to me?" Harry asked hopefully. It really bugged him sometimes that Ron and Hermione always seemed to know millions of things that he didn't – Ron because he had grown up in the wizarding world and Hermione because she read so much.

Hermione gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry Harry. Well, I suppose you don't really know much about the wizarding world's views on homosexuality, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Alright. You see, the wealthy, pureblood wizards care more than anything else about continuing their bloodline. So at some point, the wealthy wizards with homosexual children decided that it would be easier to–"

"Oh for God's sake, Hermione, he doesn't need a bloody history lesson," Ron broke in. "The short version is that for a while it was perfectly okay for wizards to be gay, and most of the upper-class ones were–"

"No they weren't! They were just more public about it and that became the stereotype. According to –"

"Alright, it became the _stereotype_ that upper-class wizards were all gay and tons of the rest of 'em were too. Then You-Know-Who came along and he's gay, so–"

"No one actually knows if he's gay, Ron. He just didn't have a girlfriend and appealed to the upper class so everyone _thinks_ he was gay. I read something in –"

"Hermione, shut up. Anyway, people think he's gay and now everyone thinks that gay people support him." He paused, looking at Harry. "Well, most gay people. And especially since Malfoy comes from such a prominent family…" Ron trailed off, giving Harry a hopeful look.

"So, you're saying that since Draco's gay and rich, that means he supports Voldemort?"

Several people in the room, including Ron, winced at the sound of Voldemort's name.

Hermione sighed. "Ron's just being a prick, as usual. He doesn't mean it, does he?" Hermione gave Ron a pointed look and he shook his head.

"Sorry Harry. But he's _Malfoy_. You can't expect us to just go from hating him to liking him over night."

"His name's Draco, okay? And he's my bloody boyfriend, so if you don't like him, get lost, okay?" And with that Harry stormed off to bed.

* * *

A/N: Hey, here's today's update... Stars-n-moons91: I've decided that I'm not going to include Ron in this one... I've got way to many ideas for other places for this to go. And I might include a flashback to the who hippogriff thing at some point... (from draco's POV) She-who-must-not-be-named666: Glad I'm not the only one... Thanks : ) Kashiaga: Thanks... I'll update again soon.  



	8. Malfoys vs Weasleys

Harry pulled on his pajamas, feeling a little guilty for the way he'd yelled at Ron. Why had blown up like that? It wasn't like he hadn't expected something like that to happen, though he hadn't expected for Ron to think Draco supported Voldemort _because_ he was dating Harry. Not that it mattered. Draco didn't support Voldemort and anyone who said he did was nuts.

But that didn't mean Harry should all but tell Ron that they weren't friends anymore. After all, Ron had been his friend way before Draco had been his boyfriend. But Harry had really hoped that his friends' initial responses had meant that they were okay with him and Draco. He should have known better. He'd have to talk to Ron and apologize.

Later. There was no way he was going back down to the common room to apologize in front of everyone. Harry pulled the curtains shut around his bed and was asleep before anyone else came up to go to bed.

Harry woke up early the next morning. Instead of going back to sleep, he decided that it would probably be better if he could avoid changing at the same time as any of the other boys – at least until they were a little more comfortable with him dating Draco. So he got out of bed to shower and get dressed before they woke up. When he was finished, he sat down on his bed again. He pulled out _Quidditch Through the Ages_, muttering _lumos_ so that he could read since the windows were still closed.

Ron was the last to wake up that morning. Harry had left after Dean had woken up so he could change without worrying about Harry watching. It irritated him that his friends no longer seemed comfortable being naked around him. He'd expected it, but it still bugged him. He was still the same person, wasn't he? It wasn't like he'd been checking them out before coming out to them. And he had a boyfriend, for god's sake. Why would he be looking at any of them when he had Draco to look at? Draco – who was much more attractive and who didn't mind at all, especially since he was Harry's _boyfriend_.

Scowling and frustrated, Harry descended the stairs to the common room. Hermione was already there. She was sitting on one of the couches, reading.

"You're up early," she commented when Harry sat down next to her.

"Mmmm…" Harry stared into the fireplace, hoping she'd take the hint. He really didn't want to talk to her – or anyone just then.

One by one the other students came down and left for breakfast, all trying not to look at Harry. He'd received less attention when everyone first figured out he was _the_ Harry Potter.

When Ron finally came down, he refused to speak to Harry. The three of them walked down to lunch in silence. Harry had intended to apologize to Ron, but now Ron was being so hostile towards him that Harry decided against it. It Ron was going to be a prick, Harry wasn't going to stop him.

Draco was already at breakfast when Harry and his friends arrived. Harry took a seat facing the Slytherin table as usual, smiling briefly at Draco who smirked back at him.

But Harry had learned that Draco almost never really smiled in public and recognized that that smirk was as close as he was ever going to get to a warm smile of greeting. And to tell the truth, Draco just wouldn't be Draco without his smirk.

Harry barely noticed when the usual flurry of owls swarmed in through the opened window with the morning mail. After over two years at Hogwarts, they were simply part of the morning routine – like brushing your teeth. Nor did he really notice when Draco received a letter in addition to his usual sweets.

But when upon reading the letter, Draco went pale and abruptly left the table, walking quickly out of the Great Hall, Harry most certainly noticed. He dropped his fork, getting up to follow Draco. Ignoring his friends' confused questions, he followed Draco out of the Great Hall. Harry caught up to him on the stairs. Draco spun around, eyes burning with anger.

He gave a sort of strangled sob and pressed himself into Harry's arms. His lips found Harry's neck and Harry held him close as his lips roamed over Harry's throat and jaw and cheek, finally finding his mouth. The boy's shoulders shook with silent sobs as he kissed Harry fiercely – almost desperately.

He finally pulled back from Harry, his face cold and expressionless.

"What was in that letter?" Harry asked softly.

Draco stared at him for a long moment. "Apparently news spreads fast. My parents found out… about us."

"And? They don't approve?"

Draco gave a cold, sharp laugh. "Hardly. They're thrilled. They want to meet you at the earliest convenience. They've invited you to come stay at Malfoy Mannor for Christmas."

"So what's the problem?" Harry asked, now thoroughly confused.

"You wouldn't understand," Draco muttered, turning to leave.

Harry caught his arm. "Then explain it to me. I'm your boyfriend – that means you should be able to tell me what's got you upset."

Draco sighed. "Alright. Let's go sit down outside or something."

Mutely Harry followed him outside. Draco led him over to the lake, sitting down on the cold, damp grass. Harry sat down next to him, waiting in silence for Draco to explain why the letter had him so upset.

"Look Harry, my parents have no problem with me dating you. I never really thought they would. And they're wonderful people, they really are. But… they weren't exactly on the same side as you parents when You-Know-Who was still around…" Draco was staring intently at the grass, not looking at Harry.

"You mean they were Death Eaters?"

"Well… yeah. But… well, they really don't like the Weasleys."

"So?" Harry asked confused. What did the Weasleys have to do with any of this?

"Have you ever wondered how the Weasleys got to be so poor?"

Harry blinked at him. "Not really. I just figured they, you know, didn't have much money."

Draco shook his head. "They used to be rich. Maybe not as rich as the Malfoys, but close. Then… about 14 years ago… well, I don't really know the details, but… My parents had another son – my older brother. And then some of Dumbledor's supporters attacked Malfoy Manor. I'm not sure why – maybe there was a meeting of You-Know-Who's supporters or something like that. But in the middle of it… my brother was killed. By Arthur Weasley. He was 4 years old and Arthur Weasley murdered him.

"At first my parents tried to kill the Weasleys. But then they switched tactics and instead they ruined the Weasleys financially and publicly. It's taken them 14 years to regain even the little political power and money they now have and my mother still wants to murder all of them.

"I know – Ron – is your friend, but he's also a Weasley, and while my parents don't mind me dating you… they might have a problem with your friends. They might be able to forgive Granger for being a mudblood, but they'll never forgive any of the Weasleys."

Harry stared at him in shock. He couldn't believe that Mr. Weasley – the man who had opened his home to Harry and all but adopted him from the day they'd met – could have murdered _any_ child. But Draco had no reason to lie to him. "So what does this have to do with my going to your house for Christmas?"

Draco sighed. "Just please try not to mention Ron, okay?"

"No. He's my friend, and he's been my friend a whole hell of a lot longer than you've been my boyfriend. So if you or your family has a problem with that, deal with it! Cause I'm not giving up my friends for you." With that Harry got up, all but running towards the castle, leaving Draco staring after him.

* * *

A/N: Siriuslupinlover: Actually, I was thinking of doing something more like a love triangle and maybe they all get jealous of each other, though I might be able to work some H/H into it too, but whatever... Anyways, thanks for reviewing :) Kashiaga: What parts were confusing? Hpfan: Thanks :P Stars-n-moons91: I'm sure I've read some RW/DM somewhere... Oh well - yeah, I'll try to write it when I get some time. And I think Ron and Harry got a headache listening to Hermione, too... Rachel: I dunno... maybe the demons hiding under my bed possessed me... I'll have to remember to thank them. Orange: Ron is jealous, because he feels like Harry's sacrificing their friendship for his boyfriend.   



	9. Asking Dumbledore

That evening, Ron still wasn't talking to Harry. When Harry had mentioned that he'd been invited to spend Christmas at Malfoy Manor, Ron had glared at him and left the dinner table. Now they were all sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was facing away from Harry, pointedly not looking at him. Hermione was sitting between the two boys, working on her homework.

Finally she looked up in irritation. "So Harry," she began, awkwardly breaking the silence. "Are you going to spend Christmas with – Draco?"

She had been very careful to remember to refer to Draco by his first name ever since Harry outburst the previous night. "I'm not sure," Harry admitted.

"Don't you want to go?" Hermione asked him.

"Well… yeah…"

"Then why aren't you sure?"

"Because…" Harry sighed. "I don't know. It's just… I don't know. I'm going up to bed."

In his room, Harry got changed and crawled into his bed. _Should I go or not? _He _wanted_ to go, but he was also afraid that Ron would never forgive him if he did. Especially after what Draco had told him earlier.

Why couldn't this just be simple? It should be. He'd been invited to stay with his boyfriend for Christmas. He didn't have any other plans. Why did Ron have to make this such a big deal? Why couldn't he just have a simple, easy life? His parents were dead, the man who murdered them was after him, and now not only was he dating the boy who had tormented him for two years, but his best friend's family loathed his boyfriend's family (and vice versa).

With Sirius Black after him, didn't he have enough to deal with already? Why did he have to deal with this too? It wasn't fair. Why did he have to choose between his best friend and his boyfriend? Why did all of this have to be such a big deal?

_Why, why, why?_

Would Dumbledore even let him go visit Draco with Sirius Black on the loose and all?

Harry closed his eyes, resolving to ask Dumbledore tomorrow. No point in worrying about whether or not he was going if Dumbledore decided he couldn't go anyway.

  
  


Harry found Dumbledore in his office the after classes the next day.

"And what can I do for you, Harry?" the old wizard asked as he entered the office.

"Err… actually, I was wondering what you would think about me going – somewhere – over Christmas break," Harry told him nervously. He wasn't sure whether he wanted Dumbledore to say it was okay or not. If he said he couldn't go, then Harry wouldn't have to decide. But Harry really did want to go.

"Mr. Malfoy has asked you to visit him, I see," Dumbledore said. "Please, sit down."

Harry blinked at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I am not completely blind to goings on in the lives of the students here at Hogwarts. Come now, Harry. Please have a seat."

Harry obeyed. "So… do you think it would be safe for me to go. I mean with Sirius Black on the loose and all–"

"Actually, I think that Malfoy Manor would be a wonderful place for you to spend your vacation. It is, if anything, safer for you now than Hogwarts. Especially as Sirius wouldn't know that you were there."

"And you're not afraid that it might be… a trap or something? The Malfoys were Voldemort's supporters, after all…"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes crinkling. "Not at all. They may have been Death Eaters, but unlike Sirius Black, they understand that Voldemort is gone and that removing you will do nothing to help him. And they love their son very much – perhaps too much, even. They would never do anything to hurt him unless it was absolutely necessary and I think that harming you would hurt him more than they can even begin to comprehend. No, you will be safe there."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered.

Harry shook his head. "No thank you. I have to go. Good-bye Professor Dumbledore."

Harry left Dumbledore sucking thoughtfully on a lemon drop.

* * *

A/N: Kashiaga and Orange: Thanks... as I mentioned in Over the Rainbow, I'll try to keep updating at least every other day from now on...  



	10. Back to the Very Beginning

Draco got up, brushing himself off. _Damn._ That could have gone better, not that he'd really expected it to.

He looked at his parents' letter again.

_Dear Draco,_

_According to Mr. Zabini, you are now dating Harry Potter. I would be reluctant to believe this, knowing of your long enmity with the boy, but several other people – including Professor Snape – have heard similar rumors._

_If this is true, I am thrilled to see that you have finally begun dating – and Mr. Potter is certainly a worthy boyfriend. Your father and I would like to extend an invitation to him to come and stay at Malfoy Manor over the Christmas vacation – assuming he has not already made other plans, of course._

_Regardless, we cannot wait to see you again._

_Love,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco knew he must have mentioned Harry and Ron's friendship with all the complaining he had done about them and even if he hadn't, Snape surely would have. So while he really would like to keep the Weasleys out of his Christmas, that wasn't the reason the letter had upset him so much.

But he knew he needed to mention it before Harry met his parents, and he hadn't known what else to say. He wasn't entirely certain himself why the letter had upset him. Maybe it was just that he'd been hoping to tell his parents himself – having them find out on their own made him feel vulnerable and helpless – not at all in control of the situation. Maybe it was that it had been Blaise's father who told them. Who knew what rumors Blaise had told his father that Mr. Zabini could have passed on to Draco's parents? Or maybe it was the way they had simply embraced Harry as their son's boyfriend – like they'd been expecting it for years – that made him feel so naked and out of control. And then there was the fear of what Harry would think of his parents. They weren't exactly the most liberal people on the world, and while he loved them dearly he doubted that Harry would be able to see past the huge mansion and the house elves long enough to see them as people.

With a sigh, he set off towards the castle. He could talk to Harry and apologize at lunch. Right now, he was in danger of being late to his next class.

  


  
  
But Harry avoided him at lunch, and for the rest of the day. By the time Draco went to bed, he still hadn't gotten a chance to speak to Harry all day. Even before coming out to the school, they had managed to at least talk two or three times a day. The fact that he'd barely even _seen _Harry since that morning had Draco more worried than he was willing to admit.

He lay awake, tossing and turning for hours as he went over Harry's schedule for the next day, trying to come up with a time when he could corner him.

He was still awake when the sky began to lighten outside his window. At that point, he figured it would be better for him to just get up than risking falling asleep and not being able to wake up.

He snuck down to the kitchens in search of a cup of coffee – if he couldn't sleep, at least he could be awake for class. Most of the house elves were still asleep, but a few were up and about, beginning to prepare breakfast. One respectfully got him his coffee and a slice of bread. Truly pathetic creatures, really, but useful.

Stifling a yawn, Draco slipped outside, walking towards the lake. He shivered slightly in the early morning chill, sipping his coffee to warm him. The grass was lightly frosted with ice and his breath came in white puffs.

He wished Harry were here – how many times had they walked together before anyone else was up? Harry had always managed to get up early if it meant seeing Draco once more. And after weeks of walking or flying with Harry over the Hogwarts grounds before sunrise, Draco had begun to associate the gray, pre-dawn light with Harry.

But now it only made him feel even colder inside. If he could just talk to Harry and apologize…

But Harry was undoubtedly still fast asleep in his nice, warm bed.

Eventually, Draco got tired of walking over the Hogwarts grounds, worrying about Harry, and went inside.

He entered the Slytherin common room to find Blaise sitting by the fire, finishing up what looked like his charms homework. He looked up when Draco came in, favoring him with a cold smile.

"You're up early."

Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise was the last person he wanted to talk to just now.

"Were you with Potter?"

Draco walked past him, hoping that if he ignored the other boy he'd go away.

"Well? Were you?" Blaise persisted, following him to the stairs.

"No," Draco answered curtly.

"Oh? Did you two have a fight? That's what you get, dating muggle-raised mudbloods like him."

Draco gritted his teeth. "Would you like to replace him?"

Blaise gave him a disgusted look. "Hardly. I suppose that letter you got was your parents' telling you to dump him."

Draco smirked. "Actually, they invited Harry to stay with us over Christmas."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? And I suppose Harry's just champing at the bit to stay with the supporters of the man who killed his parents for Christmas?"

Draco internally winced. That comment hit just a little too close to home for comfort, not that he was going to let Blaise see that. "Well, he doesn't seem to mind dating their son. Now excuse me while I go get ready for class."

With that, Draco left the room before Blaise could come up with anything else to say.

  


  
  
It seemed that Harry was still avoiding him that day. Draco would have tried to corner him after classes, except that he had quidditch practice and if he let Harry get in the way of quidditch, there _would_ be trouble with the other Slytherins. There was no way Marcus would forgive him for being late to practice just so he could talk to his boyfriend.

When practice was over, Draco stayed outside. When the rest of his teammates were gone, he took off into the air again.

_I wonder what it was like, to ride a hippogriff?_ He wasn't sure why he was thinking of the hippogriff incident right now, other than that it reminded him of Harry. Then again, so did just about everything else.

Now that was a scary realization – _everything_ made him think of Harry. It wasn't just that he was always thinking of him; everything Draco could think about reminded him of the boy. An even scarier realization was that this had been true since practically the day they'd met. Before he had always managed to convert his obsession with Harry into complaints – even convincing himself that his crush was merely physical attraction and that he truly hated Harry.

That kiss in the potions classroom had smashed all that to pieces, leaving him to face the reality that he truly couldn't imagine a life without Harry in it; for good or for ill, he needed Harry to be part of his world. Whether he was hating Harry or loving him, Harry would always be the center of his universe.

Somehow that hadn't been quite such a frightening thought when they were enemies. As enemies, all he had to worry about was suppressing his attraction to Harry. As lovers Draco had to worry about Harry's feelings towards him – as lovers he risked the possibility of losing Harry. And what would he do if Harry ever dumped him? He knew that he could never be content to go back to being enemies with Harry, and he didn't think he could survive without having Harry there in some way or another. He'd forgotten how to do that the day they'd met – in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions over two years ago… Had it really been only been two and a half years? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

They'd both been so young – only just eleven years old – with no idea of what their lives held in store for them. No idea how much they would come to mean to each other. So much had happened in those two years – the philosopher's stone, the basilisk and the chamber of secrets…

Draco smiled, remembering his first sight of Harry:

  


_He was eleven years old, standing in Madam Malkin's while he was being fitted for his robes. The bell above the door jangled as a young boy with messy, black hair and glasses entered the shop. He looked around nervously until Madam Malkin herself led him over to the footstool next to Draco's. She slipped a robe over the boy's head and set about pinning it to the right length._

_Up close, Draco could see that he was a nice looking boy, despite the messy hair. Actually, the hair almost obscuring his eyes seemed rather attractive, now that Draco got a good look at his face. He seemed to be about Draco's age. Draco decided that he liked the boy. He looked like he came from a decent family, and there was something about him that made Draco feel that he very much wanted to be his friend._

_"Hello," Draco greeted him, trying to sound as friendly as he could. "Hogwarts too?" If they were both going to Hogwarts, maybe they'd be in the same House._

_"Yes," the boy replied._

_"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco told him, saying the first thing that came to his mind in the hope of starting up a conversation. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." The boy didn't respond, so Draco asked him, "Have you got your own broom?" Maybe if he did, Draco could ask to see it._

_"No," the boy said dully._

_When he didn't elaborate, Draco tried again. "Play Quidditch at all?" If the boy did, maybe Draco could bully his father into buying the boy a broom as well._

_"No," the boy replied._

_How was Draco supposed to befriend the boy when he couldn't get him to say more than one word at a time? Perhaps the boy was demented or something. According to his father had, they'd let anyone into Hogwarts now, and it wasn't such a huge leap from mudbloods to retarded children. Still, the boy hadn't looked demented before. "__Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"_

_"Mmm."_

_At least he hadn't said 'no.' That was progress, right? Draco wracked his brain for something else to say. He was beginning to wonder if he wanted to befriend this boy after all – he didn't seem too friendly. But Draco figured he might as well keep trying. Suddenly he noticed a huge, shaggy man standing outside the window, grinning like the maniac he surely was. "I say, look at that man!" Draco said, nodding towards the monster of a man._

_"That's Hagrid," the boy informed him. Hagrid. The name sounded familiar. "He works at Hogwarts."_

_Then Draco remembered his father mentioning him. "Oh. I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" Draco asked, glad that the boy was finally showing signs of human intelligence._

_"He's the gamekeeper," the boy told him._

_"Yes, exactly," Draco nodded, trying to remember what his father had said about him. "I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."_

_"I think he's brilliant," said the boy said coldly._

_"Do you?" Draco asked surprised. Then he noticed the two ice cream cones the giant was holding. Shit. He must be here with the other boy. Oh well, no taking back what he'd said now. But surely the monster – Hagrid – couldn't be the dark haired boy's father. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"_

_"They're dead," The boy said coldly. So much for progress._

_"Oh, sorry," Draco said. Suddenly something occurred to him. "But they were our kind, weren't they?" If the boy was a mudblood, maybe that would explain his hostility towards Draco. You couldn't expect mudbloods to act like civilized wizards, after all._

_"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."_

_Draco let out a sigh of relief. At least the boy was a pureblood then. "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" If the boy was a pureblood, Draco was bound to have at least heard of his family._

_But before he got and answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and the boy hopped from the footstool._

_"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco said. The boy didn't even look at him before leaving the store to go off with that frightening creature he was here with.  
_

  


It had only been on the Hogwarts Express that Draco had realized who the dark haired boy was. Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter – the boy who lived. One of the most famous wizards alive.

Draco had, of course, been even more intent on befriending him after he realized that. Remembering that Harry Potter had been raised by muggles, he had offered to help Harry make the right friends. Harry surely didn't know a thing about the wizarding world or who was the right sort of person for a young wizard to befriend. And seeing him with that _Weasley_… How many times had his father told him to avoid the Weasleys? Murderous people – worse than muggles.

More than once his mother had complained that it was so unfair – Mr. Weasley murdered their first-born son and then Narcissa nearly died giving birth to Draco while the Weasleys were blessed with more children than they could afford. Not fair at all.

But Harry had rejected his friendship, choosing the son of the man who had killed Draco's brother instead and Draco had been forced to give up on their friendship, though not his obsession with the boy.

Draco could never really forgive the Weasleys for robbing him of his brother and his parents of their oldest son, though for Harry he might forgive Ron. But there he came back to the heart of his problem, for though he was willing to forgive Ron, he knew his parents never would. He'd never known his brother, though more than once he'd wondered what it would have been like to have an older brother instead of being an only child. He used to wonder if perhaps if his brother was still alive, his father might have been home more when he was little. Maybe, just maybe, if his brother hadn't died Mr. Malfoy might not have flung himself so completely into his work, sometimes seeming to forget that a world existed beyond his job and his plans and ambitions. He had paid a fortune to see that Draco had all the best tutors before he went off to school and went out of his way to ensure that Draco got the best education possible while at Hogwarts. Draco had learned early on how to coax his father into buying him just about anything, much to his mother's displeasure.

But then, his mother was almost as bad. He couldn't get her to buy him a new broomstick or bribe his way onto the team, but she would give him all the candy or small toys he wanted – provided he ate his dinner and more or less behaved. She rewarded good grades with extra chocolates and injuries with as many sweets as he could eat.

His parents fought sometimes, each saying that the other was spoiling him and each saying that their indulgences were justified. But mostly they loved him – he was their pride and joy and the only child they would ever have.

Draco had never really worried about their reaction to Harry – whether they approved or not, they would die before hurting him at all. If they really disapproved, his father would have written the letter, congratulating him but advising caution. And even if they hated Harry, they would tolerate him for Draco's sake.

But Draco seriously doubted that their love of him outweighed their hatred of the Weasleys. If Harry mentioned Ron, Draco had no idea what his parents would do, but he was sure it wouldn't be good whatever it was. And he really didn't want to lose Harry now over something like that.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be losing Harry anyway and Harry wouldn't even let him talk to him. He had known Harry wouldn't be thrilled, but he hadn't thought he would be quite this offended. If Draco could only talk to him and apologize…

Resolving to corner Harry after dinner that evening, Draco landed and went inside to get a start on his homework.

* * *

A/N: Stars-n-moons91: Hmm... I think the fact that they're both so hot is the reason other people like H/D so much -- you don't have to be jealous of either of them 'cause they're gay and you get two cute guys for the price of one... but I'm glad you like the fic anyway. Makai Dragon, Orange and Kashiaga: Thanks :D  



	11. Ron

By the time Harry made it back to the common room, he had decided that he was going to stay at Malfoy Manor over Christmas. But he wasn't going to pretend he wasn't Ron's friend just for Draco's parents' benefit. They would either have to accept him as he was – Ron included – or not. Ron had been his friend long before Draco had become his boyfriend, and whatever else they might have done, the Weasleys had all but adopted him into their family the day they had met. He couldn't simply deny them anymore than he could deny that he went to Hogwarts.

Harry sat down between Ron and Hermione in the common room. Ron shifted away from him.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked him.

"Talking to Dumbledore. I wanted to ask him if it would be safe for me to go to Malfoy Manor for Christmas. With Sirius Black on the loose and all…"

"And what did he say?"

Harry sighed. "He said that Malfoy Manor was probably the safest place for me other than Hogwarts."

"What? He's nuts!" Ron cried, before remembering that he wasn't talking to Harry.

"He said that since Sirius Black wouldn't know where I was, it might even be safer."

"Isn't he worried about them hurting you, even if Sirius can't get you?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "He said they wouldn't."

"Hmm… I guess it wouldn't look very good for them to hurt you while you were at their house."

"I guess so…"

Hermione nodded. "So are you going?"

"Yeah."

"What?" Ron asked.

"I'm going," Harry told him.

"But you _always_ stay at Hogwarts over Christmas."

"Because I never have anywhere else to go. This year I do."

Ron glared at him and Hermione sighed. "Ron, they're dating. Of course they're going to be spending Christmas together."

Ron turned to glare at her for a moment before looking back at Harry. "Just don't forget who your friends are," Ron spat at him. "I'm going down to dinner."

With that, he left the room, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after him.

  


  
  
During dinner, Draco watched Harry intently. For once, he wasn't particularly concerned with what his housemates thought. All he cared about was catching Harry when he left dinner.

Harry was facing away from him – not a good sign. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone and his posture was more slouched than usual. More bad signs. Draco had hardly thought about Harry's housemates since Harry had assured him that they were okay with Harry dating Draco. But it seemed that Harry was no more done dealing with his friends than Draco was.

Draco wondered what exactly Harry was fighting with them about. Maybe that was why he was avoiding Draco – because his friends wanted him to. If that were the problem, Draco wasn't entirely sure what he could do about it. But he had to at least talk to him.

When Harry got up to leave dinner, Draco immediately got up to follow him. But just before he reached the door, Blaise stepped in front of him.

"Hey Draco, could you help me out?"

"Later."

"Why not now? You don't seem busy to me."

"Blaise–"

"What? In a rush to meet your boyfriend?"

"_Yes_. Now let me go meet him."

"I'm sure he can wait. So can you help me out?"

"No."

"Come on, I just want some help with my transfiguration homework. It won't take that long. Or are you going to choose that stuck up Gryffindor over your own house?"

Draco closed his eyes, suppressing his temptation to say 'yes.' But most of his table was listening now, and that would cause more problems than it solved.

"What do you need help with?"

Blaise gave him a slightly triumphant smile. "I don't remember. Sorry."

Draco resisted the sudden urge to throttle the boy. "Okay," he said as calmly as he could and left. But by that time Harry had already vanished.

Frustrated, Draco returned to his common room to finish his homework.

  


Harry closed his eyes as he sank down on his bed. He was getting royally tired of Ron not talking to him. Why did Ron have to make such a big deal out of everything? Why was it such a big deal that Harry was dating Draco or that he was going to Malfoy Manor for Christmas? Why did it even matter? It wasn't like it changed anything. He was still Harry Potter, the boy who had been Ron's best friend since they were eleven years old. Why should who Harry chose to date change that?

Why couldn't Ron just accept this? It wasn't like _he _had to live with being gay or being in love with Draco Malfoy – all Ron had to do was keep being friends with Harry. But it seemed that that was more than he could manage.

Ron didn't have to cope with his friends' reactions, or try to deal with the Dursleys… Oh god, Harry didn't even want to _think_ about how the Durleys would react when they learned that Harry was gay. If Ron, his _best friend_ couldn't even cope with it, what would the Dursleys do?

The possibilities were endless – anything from disowning him to locking him up until he 'learned the error of his ways' to trying to beat it out of him. There were a million ways they could react, a million things they could do to him because of it. And none of them were anything even remotely resembling good.

Harry firmly pushed his thoughts about the Dursleys aside. He'd deal with that when the time came. Now his problem was Ron.

But what could he do about Ron? What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry I'm dating Draco. I'll try to be more considerate of your feelings next time I'm falling in love.' But he _wasn't_ sorry he was dating Draco. In fact, he thought it was probably among the best things he'd ever done – right up there with befriending Ron and Hermione in his first year. Why couldn't Ron just see how happy he was with Draco? Why couldn't Ron just let it go?

Why, why, why? Why was he in this mess in the first place? Why did he have to be gay and in love with Draco? Why did he have to be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived? Why did Sirius Black – his fucking _godfather_ – have to be after him? Why did his parents have to be dead? Why? Why him? Why couldn't he just have a normal, happy life? Why couldn't Ron just accept that? Why couldn't Draco understand that Ron was his friend, his _best friend_, and that Harry would never, _never_ deny that?

_Why?_

The door opened and Harry looked up to see Ron enter the room.

Harry got out of bed, walking over to his friend. _Please let him listen to me…_ "Hey."

Ron ignored him, walking over to his own bed to look for his pajamas.

"Ron, please just listen to me. Please?"

Ron didn't say anything.

"God, Ron, I don't even know what you're so mad about. Why won't you talk to me? Is it that I'm gay? Or that I'm dating Draco? Why is that such a big deal? Come on Ron, you're my best friend. At least tell me why you're mad at me…"

Ron spun around. "Why I'm mad at you? You really don't know? Because you're dating that fucking prick _Malfoy_! One minute you'd sooner break his neck than look at him and the next minute you're dating the bastard. His parents were _Death Eaters_, for God's sake – they worked for the guy who _killed your parents_! And you're _dating_ him. You don't even care that they're the bad guys. You're going to their house for Christmas, so you can be with your _boyfriend_. They murdered your parents and you're dating their son, and you're asking _me_ what's wrong?" Ron stared at him for a moment, fists clenched. "It's like I don't even know you anymore."

Harry stared back at him. What could he say? How could show Ron that it really wasn't a big deal? How could he get Ron back without dumping Draco? "Ron, I–"

But Ron just stalked out of the room, leaving Harry feeling very much alone.

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm going to be seeing PoA again tonight, so I'll probably come back with enough inspiration to start about six more stories... And with luck I'll be able to channel that inspiration into this fic. :D Though I think PoA had more Remus/Sirius than anything else... (accept Remus/Harry, but I don't really like teacher/student relationships like that) Actually, I think my favorite HP pairings are probably Narcissa/Lily, Remus/Sirius, and Dumbledor/Voldemort (not that I've been able to find much of that on the web... I wonder why?) But H/D is a lot of fun to write...  
Right... now to thank everyone for reviewing: THANKS!!! Luv ya'll dearly (I'd love you more if you could find me a photo of Tom Felton making out with Daniel Radcliffe...)  
Makai Dragon: Well I wouldn't want you to feel unappreciated. :P And thanks for reviewing again... Orange: As soon as I write more, I'll e-mail it to you. Fire Tempest and Kashiaga: Thanks  



	12. Harry and Draco

Draco caught Harry just after he left breakfast the next morning. Harry had been meaning to talk to him and tell him that he was going to accept Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's invitation. When he saw Draco, he realized with a jolt that he'd hardly even talked to the other boy in… days. Longer than he'd gone without seeing Draco in months.

"Harry," Draco began nervously. "I've… I've been meaning to talk to you… about… Oh god, look Harry: I'm sorry I asked you not to talk about Ron. I just thought you should know… why my parents hate the Weasleys so much. And I would appreciate it if you'd, you know, try not to mention him, but I don't really care. I just want you to talk to me again and please not be mad at you."

Harry blinked. "Oh… Okay… I wasn't really mad at you."

"Then why were you avoiding me?"

"I didn't realize I was. I guess I was just… sort of distracted."

"About what?"

Harry sighed. "Well, Ron mostly," he admitted. "He… isn't exactly thrilled with… you know… _us._"

"Oh… you know you don't have to come to my house for Christmas. I'm sure my parents would understand."

Harry shook his head. "No, I want to go. But Ron's my friend, and I'm not going to forget about him just because I'm dating you." But Harry wondered as he said it if he really wasn't sacrificing Ron for Draco. It seemed like he couldn't focus on one of them without neglecting the other. When he was with Draco, the rest of the universe seemed to fade out of existence. And when he was thinking about Ron, all he could think about was how much he needed the boy as a friend, despite his relationship with Draco. Draco himself seemed to fade out in much the same way the rest of the world did when he was with Draco.

"Okay, I'll tell my parents you're coming," Draco said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry smiled at Draco. "I have to go to class," he said, giving Draco a quick kiss before running off to divination.

  


At first, Draco was relieved to find that Harry wasn't angry with him. But as he thought about it, it occurred to him that the fact that Harry had just spent the last several days avoiding him without even noticing it wasn't a very good sign. Especially since Draco couldn't go for more than about three seconds without thinking about Harry. No, now that he thought about it, it most defiantly wasn't a good sign.

By lunchtime, he had decided that it would probably have been better if Harry _had_ been angry with him. At least that would have meant that Harry was thinking about him. But no, Harry hadn't even noticed.

And the thought that Harry hadn't even noticed was actually a truly frightening one. What if it meant that Harry didn't love him anymore? What Harry never really had in the first place? Draco had realized, though not consciously, that his feelings for Harry went far beyond mere infatuation and lust almost from the first time they'd kissed in the potions classroom. He had simply taken for granted that Harry's feelings mirrored his own. But what if they didn't?

That scared Draco even more than the realization that he couldn't be away from Harry for more than two minutes without going crazy had. Because not only did he need – not want, _need_ – Harry in his life, but this meant that Harry could _leave_. And Draco was fairly certain that if Harry ever left him, he'd have two choices – become Harry's stalker or kill himself. Because a life without Harry wouldn't be worth living.

Suddenly, Draco wanted Harry with him. He desperately wanted to be able to hold Harry close and never let him leave. Which, of course, was impossible since they were in the middle of lunch.

Draco glanced over at Harry to find that he was watching him. Harry smiled when he caught Draco's eye and Draco smiled back. He glanced at the remainder of his meal, deciding that he wasn't really hungry, and got up to leave.

Harry followed him out into the Entrance Hall, falling in step beside him.

"Hey."

Draco smiled at him. "How's Ron?"

Harry shrugged. "He'll come around eventually. I just don't know why he's making such a big deal out of things."

"He hates my family? He hates my guts because my family ruined his?"

"But why can't he just get over it?"

"I don't know. Maybe he feels like you're betraying him. Siding with the wealthy, powerful family over his shit-poor one. You're dad left you some money, didn't he? Maybe he's afraid that you'll decide he's not good enough for you."

Harry stared at him. "But I won't. His family's been wonderful to me – _he's _been wonderful to me. I need him – as a friend."

Draco shrugged. "It was just a thought."

Harry smiled at him, slipping his arm around Draco's waist and resting his head on the boy's shoulder. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts next, right?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah…"

"What time is it?"

"Do I look like a clock to you?"

"Right…" Harry dragged him into an empty classroom so he could look at the clock. Seeing that they still had twenty minutes before class, Harry shut and locked the door. He cast a diversion spell and turned to face Draco. "To make up for the past few days…"

Draco would have laughed, accept that Harry's lips were now pressed hotly against his and he suddenly had much better things to do with his mouth.

* * *

A/N: Kashiaga: And I don't think Ron's going to come around any time soon... Makai Dragon: Yeah... Thanks :D Stars-n-moons91: I'll have to fix that... Thanks. I'm from the US, but I like using 'Philosopher's stone' better for some reason. As for V/D - I think I have a slightly different image of them than most people. And I want to write one, but most of the plots I come up with are more complicated than I feel like starting just now and involve Dumbledore being the bad guy in some way (which is actually how I see him). Orange: They're fun to joke about  



	13. Lupin

After Defense Against the Dark Arts was over, Harry stayed after so he could talk to Professor Lupin. It was his last class of the day and dinner wouldn't be for a while and he really wanted to talk to Professor Lupin about Draco, among other things.

Once the other students had gone, Professor Lupin turned to Harry, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Professor… can I talk to you?"

Lupin nodded.

"Well…" Harry fumbled awkwardly for how to phrase what he wanted to ask. "What do you think about… me and Draco?"

Lupin looked at Harry for a long moment before answering, considering how to answer the question. "I think that you should be careful with him – honestly, I can't bring myself to trust him. But you two seem to be happy together, and I certainly support you. I can't tell if he truly doesn't care about you or if it's simply that he doesn't like to show emotion in public. I'd like to think it's the latter, but I don't know."

"…and you don't mind that we're… you know… both guys?"

Lupin smiled, shaking his head. "Now that I truly don't care about."

"And… what about his parents being Death Eaters?"

"Well, they aren't any more and as long as they don't hurt you I can live with them."

"Do you think it would be a good idea for me to stay with them for Christmas?"

Lupin nodded. "If you want to. Why?"

"…Ron doesn't."

"Ah… so that's what this is about."

Harry nodded. "Ron won't even talk to me anymore. Ever since he found out about Draco and me. He acts like I've betrayed him or something, and I don't even know why. All I know is that he doesn't want me dating Draco, and I won't give up Draco. But I don't now how else to get him to be my friend."

Lupin sighed. "You and Draco were enemies before, right?" Harry nodded. "Maybe Ron's just suspicious of how you've completely changed your attitudes towards each other. What would you think if he suddenly told you he was dating… I don't know… Professor Snape?"

Harry choked. "Ew… Professor Snape's like 50! That's just gross."

"Professor Snape's the same age I am, and I assure you that I'm nowhere near 50."

Harry flushed. "Sorry, Professor. But Ron's only 13 and Snape's… older than that. And anyway, Snape's a _teacher_."

Lupin made a face. "Thank you, Harry. I feel so young now. But aside from age differences, how would you react to Professor Snape and Ron dating?"

"It would never happen. Snape practically _lives_ to torture us. He thinks Ron's scum. He'd never date Ron, and Ron wouldn't date him."

"Isn't that what Ron thought about you and Draco?"

"But… but that's different…"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Is it? How?"

Harry floundered for the words. It _was_ different, that he was certain of. But he couldn't put it into words. "Because… because Snape's… _Snape_."

Lupin sighed. "And as far as Ron's concerned Draco is _Draco_. The same boy who tormented you for years. Can you really blame him for not jumping up and down, cheering for you? He probably feels the same way you'd feel if you found out Ron was dating Snape."

Harry stared at him. There _had_ to be a flaw in that comparison. But try as he might, Harry couldn't find it.

After a few moments, Lupin asked him, "So, would you mind telling me how you two got together in the first place?"

Harry sighed. Right… "Well, Snape made me stay after to help Draco finish making his potion after Crabbe knocked over his cauldron. And I got messed up and I blacked out for a bit and when I came to I… Well, I realized that I liked Draco."

"That sounds a bit like a love potion, don't you think?"

Harry shook his head. "No… it wasn't like that. We were making a self-discovery potion and Draco and Hermione both think that it just sort of revealed something I'd been hiding."

Lupin frowned. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

Harry sighed. Why did everyone he told immediately want to know how he'd screwed up with the potion? Why did it matter? He loved Draco and that was that. "I think we added too many jobberknoll feathers."

"Only one or two too many?"

"Yeah."

Lupin nodded. "Interesting…" He smiled at Harry. "Thank you for trusting me. I hope I could help."

Harry gave him a quick smile. "Can I ask you something completely different?"

"What?"

"The dementors. How come they affect me so much more than everyone else? Am I just–"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have.

"Dementors are the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, a dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to _you_, Harry, is enough to make anyone pass out. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"But _you_ made that dementor on the train back off," Harry said suddenly.

Lupin sighed. "There are… certain defenses one can use," Lupin told him carefully. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary…"

"But you could fight off one… please, I need to be able to defend myself against them."

Lupin hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Well… all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term. I have a lot to do before the holidays."

Harry grinned at him. "Thank you, Professor."

* * *

A/N: More of Draco in the next chapter. Promise.  
  
Gemini Gerbal: Thanks... Dumbledor would probably be upset if he ever found out exactly what Harry and Draco were doing together.... I think right now everyone just thinks they're holding hands and smiling at each other... Master of the flames: Thanks. Kashiage: Poor Ron, poor Harry, poor Draco... I don't think their lives are going to get much easier in the near future... Trekkie-54: Thanks :P I'm not sure if this is that much longer, but the next one will be (I hope) Stars-n-moons91: Thanks.... and I've changed the chapter numbers. Thanks for pointing that out. Orange: Thanks  



	14. Hogsmead

The next Hogsmeade weekend was just before Christmas break began. Technically, Harry wasn't supposed to go, but he had promised Draco that he'd find a way to come. And he had every intention of doing just that. He waited until most of the other students were gone, and then pulled on his invisibility cloak and snuck out of the castle.

As he made his way out of the courtyard, he suddenly felt two strong arms grab him from either side. Fred and George dragged him back towards the castle, despite his protests.

"Come on guy, let me go. I'm going to Hogsmeade."

"We know," they said in unison as the pulled the invisibility cloak off Harry.

"We've got something to help get you there," Fred said with a mysterious wink.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry."

Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish, holding it out to Harry. It was a large, square, very worn-looking piece of blank parchment. Harry took it hesitantly, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes

"What's that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," George told him.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," George added. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

Harry stared down at the piece of parchment in his hands. "And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?"

"A bit of old parchment!" Fred closed his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."

"Well...when we were in our first year, Harry – young, carefree, innocent –"

Harry snorted at that. He doubted that Fred and George had ever been innocent.

"…well, more innocent than we are now – we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason –"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual –"

"–detention–"

"–disembowelment–"

"–and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous._"

"Don't tell me–" Harry said, feeling a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Well, what would you've done?" Fred asked. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed – _this."_

"It's not as bad at it sounds, you know. We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?"

"Oh yes," Fred assured him, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," Harry said, looking at the ragged old piece of parchment.

"Oh, are we?"

George took out his wand, touching the parchment lightly, and saying, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, crisscrossed, and fanned into every corner of the parchment. Then words began to blossom across the top – great, curly green letters that declared:

  


_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present _

_**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**_

  


  
  
Harry stared in wonder at the map. He could see every detail of the Hogwarts Grounds. Every secret passage, ever staircase… _everything. _Then he noticed that the map was spotted with small, moving dots. And beside each dot was a name.

"Is that–"

"Dumbledore," Fred confirmed.

"In his study–"

"–pacing."

"He does that a lot."

"Now, there are several passages from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. But we recommend this one." Fred pointed with his wand at a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

"You can take it all the way into Honeydukes cellar."

"And don't forget, when you're done–" Once again George pointed his wand at the map and said in a clear voice, "_Mischief managed_."

As quickly as they had appeared, the lines of ink vanished, leaving only an old scrape of parchment.

"Well, we've got to going now."

"Have fun."

And with that, the twins vanished, leaving Harry to sneak into Hogsmeade.

  
  


Harry managed to make it into Hogsmeade undetected. He had agreed to meet Draco outside the Shrieking Shack – a convenient landmark away from the crowds of Hogsmeade itself so that Harry would be less likely to be seen. He hadn't mentioned any of this to Ron or Hermione – he was fairly sure that Hermione, at least, would have told him not to go and he still wasn't talking to Ron. Maybe he could catch them later and surprise them.

Harry made his way through the streets of Hogsmeade, careful not to bump into anyone. Eventually he made it out of the village and approached the Shrieking Shack. As the name implied, it was an old, worn down shack – old and rundown with its windows all smashed or boarded up, it looked as though it had been snatched right out of a scene from one of the horror movies Dudley had occasionally watched and invariably had nightmares about for months after. Harry had never been able to catch more than a glimpse of anything Dudley had watched and he'd certainly never been allowed to go to a haunted house, but he knew what a haunted house was supposed to look like, and this was it. It stood at the top of the hill, surrounded by a rickety old fence and Harry wouldn't have been even remotely surprised to find that a vampire or something equally horrid had taken up residence inside. It sent chills down his spine just _looking_ at it.

Draco was already there, casually resting his arms on the fence as he stared at the house. Even beneath his hat and woolen, black coat, Harry recognized him instantly. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but something in his posture gave him away. For a moment, Harry just looked at him, taking in the sheer beauty of the scene – Draco standing there, sexy as ever, surrounded by the snow and the Shack. Draco looked as warm and inviting and beautiful as the Shrieking Shack looked foreboding and sinister and the only thing that could make it better would be if Draco were facing him… or better yet, kissing him.

That thought in mind, Harry broke out of his reverie and walked up behind Draco as quietly as he could. Draco still hadn't noticed him. When Harry was so close as to be almost touching the boy, he slipped his arms around his waist, pulling the invisibility cloak over both of them.

Draco let out a cry of surprise, spinning around to face Harry. Harry didn't even bother to give him time to react before devouring his lips. Draco kissed him back, his hands caught in Harry's hair. His face was cold against Harry's, chilled with the winter frost, but Harry was only too happy to warm him up.

They pulled back, laughing and gasping as Harry lovingly caressed Draco's face. He was brightly flushed from the cold and the kissing and Harry swore he'd never looked more beautiful. Well, except of course for every other time Harry had ever seen him, but no sense in going into that now.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, the words slipping through his lips before he could stop them.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I said you're beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Hmmm… I was rather hoping for handsome, but I suppose beautiful will do."

"How about dead sexy? That better?"

Draco tilted his head, considering. "I supposed that'd do…"

Harry snorted, making a face. "Picky, picky, picky. Just take the compliment, okay?"

"Oh fine. Ruin my fun."

Harry kissed him again. "I have no intention of ruining your fun."

Draco laughed, nuzzling his neck. "I love you." The whisper almost lost against Harry's neck, but he heard it and smiled, holding Draco tighter.

"I love you too." He wasn't sure, but he thought he felt Draco smiling against his neck.

Eventually, they separated and began to make their way down into Hogsmeade. Harry kept the cloak on, more or less, but somehow managed to hold Draco's hand until they came into sight of the village. Draco shot him a strange, shielded glance when he dropped his hand.

"What? It'd look pretty dumb for you to be walking around Hogsmeade holding a floating hand."

Draco sighed softly. "…I guess…"

As they walked through the village, Harry stayed as close to Draco as he could without tripping either of them. Draco kept glancing around, whether to see that no one had noticed anything or in an attempt to check if Harry was still there (not that it worked), Harry wasn't sure. He was busy keeping an eye out for either Ron or Hermione.

He finally spotted them just standing inside Honeydukes. He tapped Draco on the shoulder, whispering, "I'm going to go talk to my friends."

Draco nodded tightly and Harry wove his way across the street, careful not to bump into anyone. Draco lingered outside Honeydukes, watching through the window as Ron and Hermione talked. Harry snuck up behind them and saw that they were examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those. They're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying to Ron in disgust.

"How about these?" Ron asked, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," Harry said.

Ron nearly dropped the jar. "Har–"

"Ron!" Hermione cut him off, giving a meaningful glance around the room. "Come on… Let's go to the Three Broomsticks and you can tell us how you managed to sneak out of Hogwarts."

"Alright."

When they left Honeydukes, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione. "Give me a minute." Then he crossed the street and snuck up behind Draco, who was now watching Ron and Hermione intently. Ron and Hermione were standing, waiting impatiently and looking 'after him' in the entirely wrong direction.

Harry stood in front of Draco, watching in amusement as Draco stared through him before kissing him briefly. It was all Harry could do not to laugh at the shocked expression on Draco's face.

"We're going to the Three Broomsticks with Ron and Hermione."

"We?"

"We." Harry waited until he saw that Draco was 'following' him across the street before returning to Ron and Hermione himself. "We can go now."

Ron and Hermione both jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Harry…" Hermione began, noticing Draco. "_He's _not coming with us, is he?"

"Of course he is."

Ron glared in Harry's general vicinity. "No he's not."

Draco folded his arms. "Fine. I'll leave."

"No!" Harry caught his boyfriend's hand. "You're coming with us."

"Then I'm not coming," Ron snapped.

"Ron! I want you to come too."

"Not if he's coming."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "I can't believe how petty you're being. Harry's your _friend_, and you're coming."

Ron scowled, but relented and the four of them set off to the Three Broomsticks.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, but not overly so and they managed to find a table at the back of the bar where no one would see them, next to a small, potted tree. Harry pulled off the cloak and they all ordered butterbeers and then turned to Harry.

"So," Hermione began curiously. "How did you sneak out of Hogwarts?"

"And why'd you find Malfoy before seeing us?"

"Ron!"

Harry sighed. "His name is Draco, and I ran into him first. Okay?"

Ron scowled at him, but was silent.

"So anyways, Fred and George caught me before they left and gave me this." Harry pulled out the Marauders Map. They all looked at it, then back to Harry.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unimpressed.

"Looks like a blank piece of parchment… how'd that help you?" Draco didn't sound much more impressed than Ron, and Hermione gave an exasperated sigh.

"It's _enchanted_, of course. Right Harry?"

In answer, Harry pointed to the map and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

And once again, lines of ink spread across the parchment.

"It's a map!"

Draco scowled at Ron. "It's a map of _Hogwarts_."

"It's bloody brilliant! Can I look at it?"

"Look to your heart's content."

"Later!" They all followed Ron's gaze over to the door. Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and The Minister of Magic had just entered the Three Broomsticks.

"Quick Harry, hide!" Hermione shoved Harry under the table, shoving the potted tree in front of him.

From beneath the table, Harry watched as the three adults sat down at the bar and ordered their drinks. Harry saw two glittering shoes appear from behind the bar and walk over to them.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came a young woman's voice.

Harry saw the lower part of Mr. Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else, Madam Rosmerta, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Madam Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall asked exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge said shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" Madam Rosmerta said, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away.... It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution... unfortunate, but there you are.... I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore - he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.

"All the same," Fudge demurred, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse.... We all know what Black's capable of...."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Madam Rosmerta commented thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought... I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta asked, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do."

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Madam Rosmerta said with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Harry felt his jaw drop. _James Potter. _His father…

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall said. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers –"

"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money..."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Professor Flitwick chimed in. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge agreed. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. They named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse even than that, m'dear...." Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelious Charm."

"How does that work?" Madam Rosmerta asked, breathless with interest.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "An immensely complex spell, involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find - unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself.... and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta gasped.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," Professor McGonagall said darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did," Fudge said heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelious Charm had been performed–"

"Black betrayed them?"

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it -"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall said quickly, glancing around the bar.

"I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James' house after they were killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead...an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily and James' Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!"

"Hagrid, please!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him -' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says.

"I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him.

_"But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh?_ I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore...."

A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Rosmerta said in a satisfied tone, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "But it was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew - another of the Potters' friends. Maddened with grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew...that fat boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?"

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I - how I regret that now...." Her voice was choked with emotion.

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge said kindly, reaching out to pat her hand. "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses – Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later – told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens...."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose, dabbing at her eyes, and said thickly, "Stupid boy...foolish boy...he was always hopeless at dueling...should have left it to the Ministry...."

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands - I'd've ripped him limb - from - limb," Hagrid growled fiercely.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," Fudge said sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I – I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him...a heap of bloodstained robes and a few - a few fragments–"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly and Harry heard the sound of five noses being blown.

"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," Fudge said, voice thick. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

"I wish I could say that he was. I certainly believe his master's death unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man – cruel... pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them... but I was shocked at how _normal_ Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored – asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please. Said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him – and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Madam Rosmerta asked. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his – er – eventual plan. But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing...but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…"

There was a small chink of glass on wood as someone set down their glass.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," Professor McGonagall commented.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry moved to stand; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again and the teachers disappeared into a flurry of snow.

"Harry?"

Slowly, Harry climbed out from under the table. Ron, Draco, and Hermione were all staring at him at a loss for words. He could feel tears burning in his eyes. Sirius Black… His father's _friend_…

"Harry–"

He collapsed into his seat, holding his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. A light hand on his shoulder. He glared up at the three of them.

"He was their _friend_," he sobbed. "Their _friend_! And he betrayed them. He _killed_ them!" He closed his eyes for a moment, and when opened them, they glittered with anger and resolution. "I hope he finds me. Because when he does, I'm going to be ready. And going to _kill him_!"

Ron, Hermione, and Draco exchanged a look and then returned their gazes to Harry. "And we'll be right by your side, Harry," Hermione promised. Ron and Draco nodded.

Something about their firm, defensive expressions – Ron's in particular – broke something within Harry and all his anger melted away into grief. With another sob, he turned to Draco, burying his face in his boyfriend's chest and sobbing brokenly.

Ron and Hermione both moved to hold him as well – and for once, neither Draco nor Ron cared that they hated each other. For once, they realized that they had one thing in common: the very most important thing in the world to both of them was Harry, and right now he needed both of them.

* * *

A/N: Okay, first off most of the dialogue that actually happened in the book was taken straight from the book. The scene with Fred and George was a mix between the books, the movie, and my own imagination. The dialogue between the Professors and Madam Rosmerta in the Three Broomsticks was taken almost entirely from the books. So sue me... actually, please don't since (as I believe I've mentioned) I'm just a penniless sitar player a.k.a. The Writer (for those of you who've seen Moulin Rouge).  
Stars-n-moons91: Thanks :P  
And anyone who notices and points out gramatical errors in any of my writing, I'll love you forever! (though plot continuity, characterization and so on are great too...)


	15. Slytherin Common Room and Soup

After classes the next day, Draco met Harry in the Entrance Hall, as usual. It was a convenient, neutral territory and since it was inside, they didn't have to freeze their arses off waiting for each other. Draco had long since decided that, while he loved being a Slytherin, the whole House system wasn't exactly designed to encourage inter-House relationships. Were they in the same House, not only would they have the guarantee of being in all the same classes (at least, the ones they both took), but they would also share a common room, eat at the same table, and even _sleep_ in the same room. As it was, they had become rather adept at finding empty classrooms – especially now that winter had come. The Marauder's Map certainly helped with that, though Draco somehow doubted that that's what Fred and George had had in mind when they gave to Harry.

But the sneaking around was beginning to get irritating. Draco was getting sick of not even being able to sit down in a comfortable chair – classrooms simply were not designed for comfortable snogging. And anyways, he was Draco Malfoy; he could do whatever he bloody well felt like – which included not having to sneak around just to see his boyfriend. So this morning he had decided that he was taking Harry up to his room and the other Slytherins could just piss off.

Harry greeted him with a kiss, looking much more cheerful than usual. He had mentioned something last night about Ron seeming just a little more tolerant of Draco after hearing all that about Sirius Black. Not that Ron _liked_ Draco, mind you, but he seemed to have decided that Harry was having a hard enough time of it without being harassed about his choice of boyfriends.

Draco grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him off in the direction of the dungeons.

"Where are we going?" Harry protested. "You haven't even looked at the Map yet."

Draco looked over his shoulder. "Slytherin common room."

Harry pulled his hand back, freezing in his place. "What?"

Draco turned around to face him. "Slytherin common room. I'm sick of sneaking around. Now come on."

"What about the other Slytherins?" Harry asked without budging.

Draco shrugged. "What about them?"

"Won't they, you know, mind?"

"Who cares? Now are you coming or aren't you?" Harry looked at him for a moment and Draco rolled his eyes. "I promise not to let them eat you. That's my job. Happy now?"

Harry hesitated for another moment before sighing and moving to follow him. Draco led him down to the dungeons, halting before the small "S" carved in the wall to mark the hidden door that lead to the Slytherin common room and turning to Harry.

"I'm not telling you the password."

"What? Why not?"

Draco sighed. "Because, the other Slytherins will be pissed enough that I'm bringing you in here at all; you're not even supposed to know _where_ our common room is. And you'd better not go telling your friends where it is, either."

"I thought you didn't care what the other Slytherins thought… And how do you know we don't all already know where your common room is? It's on the Marauder's Map, isn't it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and don't listen." Harry sighed, folding his arms and waiting patiently while Draco leaned close to the door and whispered, "_Veratas._"

The door slid open and Draco grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him through it. Everyone in the room turned to look at them, eyes widening when they realized whom Draco had with him. Draco just rolled his eyes and pulled Harry in the direction of his dormitory. Adrian Pucey, a Slytherin Prefect, got up from his chair before they had gotten more than halfway across the room and cut them off.

"What do you think you're doing, bringing him down here?"

Draco glared at him. "Oh, sod off Pucey. I don't need a nanny."

Pucey didn't move. "You can't bring him in here."

"Funny. I thought I just did. Now move, unless you want my Father to hear about this."

He could see Pucey fighting with himself, caught between getting Harry out of the common room and not getting in trouble with one of the most powerful wizards in the world. But self-preservation apparently won out, because he moved out of the way, watching Harry suspiciously until they had both vanished upstairs.

By the time they made it to Draco's dormitory, Harry was beginning to get more than a little out of breath.

"How can they make you climb all that just to get to your dormitory?" he panted.

Draco smirked at him, pleased that _he_ wasn't even winded. "Snape says it's good exercise. And the prefects get lower rooms, so maybe they think it'll help motivate us to be good students."

Harry blinked. "Prefects get their own rooms?"

Draco nodded, flopping down on his bed. "Slytherin ones do, anyways. I think I remember something about it technically being against the rules. But we're Slytherins."

Harry made a face at him, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"The view's nice though."

Harry snorted. "The view's nice," he repeated mockingly.

Draco shrugged defensively. "Well it is. If you like, we can even climb up to the top of the tower. It's nice up there."

"Just let me catch my breath first."

Draco stretched out on the bed, kicking off his shoes. Harry grinned, leaning over him to caress his face, staring down into his eyes. Draco smiled, reaching up to pull Harry's head down into a kiss. Harry ran his fingers down Draco's chest, pushing aside his robes and slipping his fingers beneath Draco's shirt. His mouth moved from Draco's lips down to his throat, sucking and licking as he went. And now Harry's fingers were pushing up his shirt, caressing his chest… And somehow he was on top of Draco now, his hips pressing into Draco's groin, and his mouth was on Draco's chest, licking and teasing at his nipple and _oh god_, Draco was in heaven… He moaned, arching into Harry's wonderful, wonderful mouth, wanting more, _needing_ more.

For a moment it occurred to Draco that he probably didn't want any of his roommates finding them like this and that this was undoubtedly a _very_ bad idea, but he really didn't care anymore. If they didn't like it, that was their problem. Just as long as Harry kept doing whatever it was he was doing with his mouth, nothing else really mattered…

Suddenly, Harry pulled back. Draco gave an annoyed whimper, pouting at him in the hopes that he'd go back to what he'd been doing.

"…I'm not sure this is a good idea, Draco…"

"Why not?" That had come out a little whinier than he'd intended, but he wasn't in a mood to really care.

"Well… what if someone comes in and… sees us?" he asked, blushing a little.

"Then they see us? Look, I know we haven't had sex ed. yet, but while I don't know about your Gryffindor friends, us Slytherins are pretty sharp. I think they've figured out the birds and the bees by now, okay?"

"I… still don't…"

Draco sighed. "Oh fine. Just promise you'll make it up for me _big_ time over Christmas break."

Harry looked relieved. "Promise."

Draco rolled his eyes, sitting up. He loved Harry dearly and wouldn't change him for the world, but sometimes the whole "Gryffindor honor" thing really got on his nerves. Like now – no self-respecting Slytherin would have given two hoots whether anyone caught them or not. Well, not unless they _wanted_ to get caught, but that was different.

Draco slipped his arms around Harry's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. He could feel Harry's hair against his cheek.

"Come on… I'd better at least start my homework or Hermione'll skin me when I get back," Harry said, pulling away from him.

Suppressing the twinge of possessiveness he felt hearing Harry mention Hermione's name, Draco got up. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the reason Harry had stopped wasn't because he was worried about getting caught, but because he was getting tired of Draco. Which was stupid and crazy and one look into Harry's adoring eyes should have put all his worries to rest, but he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

Draco found a quill and they set about finishing their homework. By dinnertime, neither of them was really hungry, so Draco suggested just skipping dinner and just getting something later. After a moment of hesitation, Harry agreed.

By the time they'd finished their homework, it was well past dinnertime.

"I'm hungry. Let's go get some dinner."

"Where?" Harry asked. "Dinner's over."

"In the kitchens."

"Huh?"

Draco rolled. "The _kitchens_. You know, where the house elves make our meals."

Harry blinked at him in surprise. "You know where the kitchens are?"

"Of course. I'm a Slytherin," Draco said as if this explained everything.

Harry just shrugged and followed him down the stairs to the common room. It was easier going down than coming up, and Harry wasn't more than a little flushed by the time they reached the bottom. Though dinner was over, but it was still early enough that no one had gone up to bed yet and the common room was packed. Once again, everyone turned to stare at them when they entered the common room, but this time no one said anything.

Once out of the common room, Draco led Harry down the corridor towards the stairs leading up to the Entrance Hall, stopping in front of a green tapestry depicting a wizard fighting with some type of dragon. Draco knew he should probably be able to recognize the dragon, but he honestly couldn't muster his father's enthusiasm about the beasts.

"Serpent's nails," he said to the wizard.

The wizard ignored him, absorbed in dodging a burst of bright red and yellow fire rippling across the cloth from the dragon's mouth.

"_Serpent's nails_," Draco snapped again.

"Give me min– oh…" The wizard looked suddenly nervous as he realized who was talking to him. "Uh, Mr. Malfoy… I, er, didn't see you… Very sorry, I'll just be–" He was cut as another burst of flame shot out from the dragon's mouth, washing over him and leaving him rather singed. He let out a long string of words that no painting hanging in a school should be allowed to know and pointed his want at the dragon, shouting "_Stupefy!_" The dragon stilled, falling in a heap to the bottom of the tapestry, it's tail dangling over the green and silver border, lost outside the confines of the tapestry. Looking rather pleased with himself, the wizard turned back to Draco. "What was it you wanted, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Serpent's nails," Draco said for the third time. The wizard's skin turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, thanks to the limited number of colors available in the cloth of the tapestry.

"Oh… right…"

The outline of a door appeared around the tapestry, swinging inwards to reveal a dark passageway. Draco pulled Harry through just as the dragon began to stir again, leaving the wizard and dragon to their eternal battle.

The door shut behind them with an audible thud, leaving them in pitch-blackness. If only this passage were just a little less well used, it might have been a perfect meeting place for them. Of course, there was the issue of the limited air supply, as Draco had discovered when he, Vincent, and Gregory had tried to skip class by hiding here in his first year. Gregory had passed out and Draco had had to convince Vincent to stop panicking long enough to drag Gregory out. Ever since then, both Gregory and Vincent had refused to use this passage, preferring to go up to the Entrance Hall and then back down the other stairs, which lead to the kitchens and – the Hufflepuff common room.

"Draco…?"

"What, scared of the dark, Potter?"

"No," Draco could tell from his voice that he was blushing. Harry did that a lot. "But it's sort of… dark."

Draco smirked, though he knew Harry couldn't see him. "That is what it's usually like when there's no light." But he took pity on Harry, lifting his wand and saying in an imperious tone, "_Lumos!_"

Light flared from the tip of his wand, illuminating the passage in a burst of blinding white light. The walls of the passage were bare stone, gray and rough though the floors had been worn smooth by millions of pairs of feet walking over them throughout the centuries. For all that none of the rest of the school seemed to know about the passage, it was rather heavily trafficked by Slytherins looking for snacks and Hufflepuffs looking for their Potions classrooms.

It was also surprisingly short passage – just long enough to pass under the main stairway in the Entrance Hall.

Draco pushed open the wooden panel at the end of the passage, muttering "_Nox_" as they entered the hallway leading to the kitchens. The painting swung closed behind them, the young mermaid in it casting a flirtatious glance at Draco. She had taken a liking pretty much the first time she saw him, helping him out on various occasions, and ever since she'd covered for him that time he'd cut class by not telling Snape, Draco had tried to be nice to her. And after he'd established that he truly didn't find her attractive and that it had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with his own sexuality, Draco had become rather friendly with her. She was actually the first person he'd come out to. So Draco gave her his usual, equally flirtatious smile.

"Is that… _Harry Potter_?" she asked, nodding towards Harry. "Hmmm… He's _fine_…" She giggled, blushing a little, and then pouting. "But he never comes down here. We've all felt so unloved."

Harry blushed a little. "Er… I…"

"He'll be coming down here much more often from now on, lovely."

"_You_ haven't been down here lately, either." She gave him a hurt look.

"I've been busy. Now we–"

"Busy? With _him_, I'll wager." She gave a fake sob. "How could you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Later. Unless you want me starving to death?" The mermaid smiled sweetly at him, giggling softly. "Come on Harry." He found Harry's hand again, pulling him down the corridor.

"Who was that?"

"What? Oh, the mermaid." Draco shrugged. "A friend."

Harry frowned at him. "You call your friends 'lovely'?"

Draco glance at Harry, wondering if he'd heard a hint of jealously in his voice. "Harry? She's a painting. Please don't tell me you're jealous of a painting."

"Er…" Harry was blushing again. Draco decided that it was a very good thing he thought Harry looked hot when he was blushing and stuttering. And he really liked that Harry was jealous, even if it was just because of a painting.

Draco slipped his arm around Harry's waist, nuzzling his ear. "Trust me," he whispered. "I'm not interested in dating paintings."

"Mmm?"

"Especially when I have such a wonderful, _real_ boy dating me."

Harry's reply was cut off when Draco pulled away from him, replaced with a startled "What?"

"Shush," Draco muttered, waving at him to be quiet. They had come to a painting of a gigantic silver bowl of fruit. Draco reached out, lightly tickling the green pear. The painting opened to reveal an enormous, high-ceilinged room – exactly the same size and shape as the Great Hall directly above it. There were four long tables positioned precisely below the House tables in the Great Hall. The usual chaos of brass pots and pans were heaped in a disorderly fashion around the stone walls and a cheery fire still burned in the great, brick fireplace at the other end of the room. At least a hundred little house elves in their Hogwarts uniforms – tea towels tied like togas – were standing around the kitchens, taking a quick break before beginning to prepare breakfast. They all looked up and, seeing Draco, fell into a respectful silence.

One of them hurried over to Draco, politely looking down at the floor as he asked, "What is master wanting?"

Draco glanced at Harry, who shrugged.

"Soup, then."

The house elf nodded and scurried off while Draco led Harry over to one of the tables – Slytherin, which happened to be closest to the door.

"So, where were we?" Draco asked after they'd sat down. "Ah yes, I was explaining to you that I don't date paintings."

"I know, but…"

Draco sighed patiently. "In case you hadn't noticed, Harry, not only is she a painting – which would make a relationship rather difficult – but she's also _female_. And just in case you haven't picked up on this yet, _I don't like girls_. Never have, never will."

"Not at all?"

Draco glanced at him, surprised. "Nope. Not one bit. I can stand them as friends – well, a few of them anyway. Actually, only Pansy… and maybe Tracey… oh, and then there's that second year, Sophie… she's all right. But no, I've never been attracted to girls. Why, have you?"

Harry's blush deepened. "…er…"

"The appropriate answer is 'not since the day I met _you_, Draco.'"

"Well… actually…"

"_Harry!_"

"I was going to say that I actually haven't really thought about much of _anything_ but you since we met," said Harry quickly.

Draco grinned at him. "Nice save."

Harry smiled back, slipping his arm around Draco's waist and resting his head against his shoulder. "Well, you and Voldemort–"

"Harry," Draco said warningly.

"–and Ron, and Hermione–"

"I thought you said you hadn't thought about any girls!"

"Not like that – Hermione's my _friend_."

"Oh, so it's okay to stare at her arse if she's your _friend_, hmm?"

"I do _not_ stare at her arse," Harry protested.

"Oh, so you stare at her tits?"

"_No!_ I don't stare at her _at all_. She's just my _friend_, and an important part of my life _as a friend_."

"And you've never once been attracted to her?"

Harry shook his head. "Never."

"Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, Harry caught Draco's lips in a passionate kiss, his hands at Draco's waist. Draco moved his own hands to Harry's head, twining his fingers in the boy's messy, raven locks. "Positive," Harry gasped against Draco's mouth when Draco finally released him from the kiss.

"Good," Draco murmured, gazing intently into his sparkling green eyes, brushing his thumb over Harry's moist, slightly parted lips. Harry smiled, his eyes flickering briefly from Draco's to the table.

"…er… I think dinner's here."

Draco sighed, dropping his finger when he saw dinner was indeed on the table: two steaming bowls of soup, along with two mugs, and a loaf of fresh bread. The house elf was standing patiently on the other side of the table, waiting in case Harry or Draco wanted something else.

Draco lifted the mug, taking a sip. Butterbeer. He'd tried to get the house elves to give him firewhiskey during his first year, but they'd refused, despite his insistence that his parents didn't mind – his mother had never much cared what he drank and his father was never paying enough attention to notice. At this point, he'd pretty much given up on getting any firewhiskey at Hogwarts until he was at least 16, if then. But butterbeer was an acceptable substitute – much better than the pumpkin juice they'd tried to give him at first.

Draco then turned his attention to his soup. Chicken soup with squash, onions, mushrooms, and some green, leafy things floating around. Probably parsley or something. The chicken was cut into neat, square chunks that were only just barely small enough to be acceptable, and everything else looked fine. Until he noticed a bright orange chunk of what could only be carrot.

He glanced up at the house elf in irritation. "What's this carrot doing in my soup? I thought I already told you to take them out."

"We is very sorry, master. We'll bring master a new bowl right now," the house elf said in a very apologetic voice.

"No, don't bother. Just be more thorough in the future."

"Master is being very nice," the house elf said, looking very relieved.

Draco snorted, fishing the offending chunk of carrot out of the soup and carefully placing it on the plate beneath his bowl. He glanced over at Harry, who was trying hard not to snicker as he ate his soup. "What?"

"Nothing. I should have known you're an obsessively picky eater."

"I'm not picky. I just have a very delicate pallet," Draco informed him defensively.

Harry snorted rolling his eyes. "You're a picky eater."

Draco shook his head. "Well, what should I expect coming from someone raised by such horrid muggles. I suppose you've learned to eat just about anything."

The brief flash of emotion in Harry's eyes was the only indication that Draco had hit just a little close to home. But Harry quickly masked it, cutting himself a slice of bread. "Just about – I'm still working on Hagrid's cooking, though."

Draco laughed, but knew better than to continue the joke. Harry could make fun of Hagrid or any of his other friends, Draco couldn't. Just like Draco would happily make fun of Vincent and Gregory, but wouldn't tolerate Harry doing so.

So instead, Draco had some more of the soup and moved his other hand to Harry's. Harry squeezed his hand, smiling as Draco ran his fingers over Harry's palm. Suddenly, he glanced over at their joined hands, then up at Draco.

"You're left-handed?"

Draco laughed. "When I want to be. Of course, my mother made sure I learned to do pretty much everything with my right hand too."

"Oh."

Draco smiled and went back to his soup.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long. There are two reasons for that:  
1. I was having trouble with another of my stories and was focusing on that one instead of this one.  
2. This chapter is about three times as long as most of the others, and therefore took longer to write.  
  
Trekkie-54: Did I forget to respond to your review of chapter 13? If so, sorry. Nope, they don't know about Sirius yet, and I think his reaction to Draco (when they finally meet) should be... interesting :P Starn-n-moons91: Thanks, and here's your cookie ;D ...must go fix the typos... Kashiaga: Thanks  
Orange: You get thanked whether or not you review, because not only do you edit the stories, but you also put up with me asking you to go look things up in the books 'cause I can't find my copy, and asking you stupid, random questions that have nothing to do with the fanfic, but without which I would be incapable of writing this. So thanks :D  
  
And if I ever forget to respond to anyone's I'm very, very sorry and will rectify this as soon as I notice/it is brought to my attention.  



	16. Christmas Break Begins

It was well past bedtime when Harry finally left the kitchens, but he managed to make it back to his dormitory without running into Filch.

Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room, playing a game of chess. They both looked up when Harry entered.

"Harry! Where have you _been_?" Hermione asked him sounding annoyed.

Harry blinked at her. "Er… with Draco."

Ron glared at him. "I should have _known_ you'd be with that prat."

"His _name_ is _Draco_. And you ought to have known—I told you where I was going."

"But that was _hours_ ago," Hermione protested. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What if you were caught? You're not supposed to be wandering around the school this late. Especially not with—Sirius Black—on the loose. It's not _safe_."

"I can take care of myself, Hermione," Harry snapped back.

"I thought you said that you'd be back in time for dinner," Ron said angrily.

Harry winced. He'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry… we sort of got distracted."

"With what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Nothing like _that_," Harry said quickly, flushing. "Just talking and stuff…"

"What sort of stuff?"

"Er… homework," Harry admitted.

Ron snorted. "Homework? You really expect me to believe that?"

"Yeah. It's the truth."

"So if you did your homework, where is it?"

Harry blinked and suddenly realized that he'd left it in Draco's room. _Shit_. "I forgot it in Draco's room. I guess I'll have to get it from him tomorrow…"

Ron gaped. "You were in his _room_?"

"Yeah, so?"

"But he's a _Slytherin_."

"Yeah? And?"

Ron just stared at him for a moment before stomping upstairs. Harry stared after him for a moment, then turned back to Hermione. She was looking at him with concern.

"What is it?"

She just shook her head and went up to her own dormitory. Harry closed his eyes. So much for making up with Ron.

For a moment, Harry wished Draco were here to give him support, but he knew Draco wouldn't be able to help him deal with Ron. He had to do that on his own.

Harry found Ron sitting on his bed, fuming. Neville was already asleep, but Dean and Seamus were talking to each other. The fell silent the moment the door opened, glaring at Harry. Harry made his way over to Ron.

"Ron?"

No response.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, wishing Dean and Seamus weren't watching him.

"Sorry? You're sorry you just blew me and Hermione off so you could spend time with _Malfoy_." Only Ron could say the name with quite that much distain. "You promised you'd be back before dinner. But you didn't even _come_ to dinner. You were off screwing around with that prat."

"I didn't _promise_ you anything. I _said_ that I'd be back in time for dinner, but I wasn't. So I was wrong. I lied. So sue me."

Ron looked away. "Don't have the money to sue you," he muttered. "Malfoy does though. Tons of it."

Harry reached out to touch Ron's shoulder, but Ron flinched away. "I said I was sorry. It won't happen again. What more do you want?"

"Malfoy's head on a platter?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Well, I can't give that to you."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"You can defeat You-Know-Who as a baby, but you can't kill a snotty, 13 year old brat?" Harry was relieved to hear the slight hint of humor in his voice.

"Well, aside from the fact that murder is illegal and I'd probably be expelled from Hogwarts and sent off to Azkaban, I don't think I could ever just kill anyone in cold blood," he said. He also doubted he could ever kill anyone he loved as much as he loved Draco, but he was cautious or mentioning that to Ron.

Ron smiled. "I suppose that's true." Harry suppressed a sigh of relief. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night Ron."

  
  


When Draco returned to his dormitory, he found his roommates along with Pansy and Tracey all playing a card game on Theodore's bed. Ignoring them, he went over to his own bed to find his pajamas. Harry's homework was still there. Oh well, he could give it to Harry tomorrow.

"So Draco," Theodore began a little too casually. "Why weren't you at dinner?"

Draco shrugged, not turning around. "I wasn't hungry."

"You were with Harry," Blaise said matter-of-factly.

Draco nodded.

"You skipped dinner so you could spend time with that mudblood Gryffindor boyfriend of yours."

"And?" Draco asked, turning to face him.

Blaise glared. "And you're a _Slytherin_."

"And?" Draco repeated, determined not to react.

"You abandoned your own House for a _Gryffindor_."

Draco snorted at that. "I abandoned you? My House can't function if I so much as skip dinner?"

"No," Theodore said calmly. "But you chose a Gryffindor over a Slytherin. It's a matter of values."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do _you_ want to be my boyfriend?"

"Draco—"

"Well?"

Theodore sighed. "No, but that's not—"

Draco turned to Blaise. "And you?"

"No," Blaise said in disgust. "But—"

"And you?" Draco asked turning to Vincent and Gregory. "Either of you fancy going out with me?" They both shook their heads and Draco turned back to Theodore and Blaise. "So, that takes care of all the _Slytherin_ boys. Who else is going to be my boyfriend?"

"This has nothing to do with Harry being your boyfriend," Theodore protested.

"It doesn't? Let's see—you're upset because I had dinner with my boyfriend instead of with a Slytherin. How does this not involve Harry?"

"It's a matter of values."

"And my spending time with Harry means I don't value Slytherin?"

"You chose Harry over Slytherin," Blaise said softly.

"_To eat dinner with_."

"And how do we know you won't make the same choice about something that really matters?"

"I'm a Slytherin," Draco snapped.

"But if you had to choose, which would it be? Harry or Slytherin?" Blaise persisted.

Draco closed his eyes. "And when will I ever have to choose?"

"Does it matter? If you had to betray either Harry or Slytherin, which would it be?"

_Slytherin or Harry?_

"Well?" Theodore prompted.

"Slytherin," Draco spat, not sure whether that was really true. But it wasn't like he could say Harry right now. "I'd choose Slytherin."

"And why should we believe you?" Blaise asked.

Why indeed, when he himself wasn't sure he was telling the truth? But his own doubts weren't the issue here. Maintaining his place in Slytherin in was. And so he fell back on the standard Slytherin answer: "Because _I'm_ a Slytherin."

"But how do we know you won't betray us?"

"How do we know _you_ won't betray us?" Draco returned.

"_I_ have never gone out with a Gryffindor," Blaise pointed out.

"No, you haven't," Draco agreed.

"So why should we believe you?"

"Because I said so," Draco said coldly.

"So?"

"Oh, leave him alone," Pansy snapped. "He said he'd choose Slytherin, and let's hope we never have to test that. Now are we going to finish our game, or are you just going to interrogate Draco? Because if you're just going interrogate Draco, I'm going to bed."

"I think it's your turn, Blaise," Theodore said, and they returned to their game.

Draco got changed into his pajamas, wondering as he did so if he really would choose Slytherin. Slytherin had been the most important piece of his life. No, Slytherin had _been_ his life, and he would die before betraying them. The thought of losing their trust, friendship, and support wasn't something he even wanted to _think_ about. But Harry… he wasn't sure he could live without Slytherin; he knew he couldn't survive without Harry. And he was afraid that someday he actually _would_ have to choose between the two.

But with luck, that day wouldn't come for a long time yet—if ever.

  
  


It was the evening before Harry and Draco were leaving to go to Malfoy Manor and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Ron had been willing to tolerate Draco as long as Harry didn't miss any meals or mention him too much or come back to the common room too late. Ron still didn't like Draco, nor was he happy that Harry was going to Malfoy Manor for Christmas, but he was willing to tolerate Draco, and that was enough for now. Harry had been careful not to get into another fight with Ron. The last thing he wanted was to spend all of Christmas on uneasy terms with Ron.

Harry had packed his things earlier that day and had spent the entire day with Ron and Hermione. Part of him missed being with Draco, but he firmly told that part of himself that he would have Draco all to himself for the entire Christmas holidays and the least he could do was spend today with his friends.

Ron had just beaten Harry at three chess games and was trying to persuade him to play another game while Hermione read.

"Come on, Harry. Just one more game," Ron begged.

Harry shook his head. "You'll cream me again."

"You might win. Fourth time's the charm."

"That's what you said last time," Harry pointed out.

"Come on, it's worth a shot."

"No. Anyway, I'm getting tired."

"Just one more game before you go away for Christmas. Please?"

Harry shook his head.

"Don't you want to get in one win before leaving?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Well first off, I won't be winning," Harry pointed out.

"So?"

"Harry," Hermione said looking up from her book as though something had just occurred to her.

"Yeah Hermione?"

"Is Malfoy's father still trying to sack Hagrid over Buckbeak?"

Harry blinked. "I… guess so…"

Ron glared at Harry. "How can you go out with this guy? He's trying to get rid of _Hagrid_ just because he was stupid and got a little scratch on his arm."

Harry closed his eyes. Not again. "Ron, please don't—"

"Ron," Hermione said sharply. "You aren't helping." Ron glared at her, but she ignored him. "Harry, can't you ask them to lay off on Hagrid while you're staying over Christmas?"

"Sure."

"You'd better," Ron said warningly.

"I _will_. Hagrid's my friend too, you know."

"We know, Harry," Hermione said, stifling a yawn. "It's getting late. I'm going up to bed."

"So what about that game?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Then let's go up too."

Harry nodded and the three of them went up to bed.

  
  


It was almost noon by the time they arrived at platform 9 ¾. They had taken the Hogwarts Express from Hogwarts. Draco and Harry had shared a compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini. Harry felt exceedingly uncomfortable sitting in a compartment full of Slytherins, especially since Draco was refraining from touching him or otherwise showing any affection and Zabini was shooting him venomous glares across the compartment when he thought Draco wasn't looking. Nott was doing his best to ignore him. The only people who weren't treating him strangely were Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting like pillars of stone with Crabbe next to Draco and Goyle sitting across from Harry. Somehow, Harry found their presences comforting, disturbing though that thought was. But when he looked at Goyle, he could have sworn he saw an encouraging smile in the boy's expressionless eyes.

Draco, Zabini, and Nott spent the entire time talking and joking about various Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws along with every teacher but Snape, though Harry noticed that whenever Gryffindor came up, Draco could steer the conversation to something else. Occasionally they would make some joke aimed at Crabbe or Goyle, but they never seemed to notice, or perhaps they were used to it.

Harry was very much relieved when the train finally slowed down. Mr. Malfoy met them at the station, much to Harry's surprise. He wasn't sure who he'd expected to meet them—a servant, perhaps. But certainly not Lucius Malfoy himself. Harry was also surprised but relieved that the rest of the Slytherins were met by their respective parents. He had been wondering whether Crabbe or Goyle would be coming with them—he could hardly imagine Draco without them for any significant amount of time.

Mr. Malfoy insisted on going to Knockturn Alley before they went to Malfoy Manor.

"Can we get some ice cream after?"

Mr. Malfoy frowned, but when Draco pouted he sighed and said, "All right. Behave yourselves and after I buy what I need, we'll get ice cream."

"Thank you."

Mr. Malfoy gave a slight shake of his head and set off, leaving Harry and Draco to follow in his wake. He walked quickly and Harry felt like he had to run to keep up, though Draco managed to keep up without even seeming to walk faster. Knockturn Alley wasn't quite as foreboding as he'd remembered it being from his few minutes in the horrid place before his second year, but then he hadn't been expecting Diagon Alley this time, nor was he lost and alone here. Not to mention that he was older now and had had plenty of time to blow his memory of the place all out of proportion. By comparison to his memories of the place, it was positively cheerful.

Mr. Malfoy quickly vanished into one of the shops, telling Draco and Harry to wait outside. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to Harry.

"You want to see something interesting?" he asked.

"Er…" Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what Draco would find here that was 'interesting.'

But Draco seemed to take his lake of protests as a yes and set off down the street, leaving Harry to follow him. Harry stuck as close to Draco as he could as Draco led him down the street. On second thought, maybe Knockturn Alley _was_ as creepy as he'd remembered. He passed several stores proudly displaying what looked like shriveled heads, mummified hands, poisoned griffin talons, and the like, and the vendors all seemed to be selling equally repulsive wares. The further they went into Knockturn Alley, the darker the street seemed to get. Darker, narrower, and dirtier, with more and more evidence of Dark Magic. The crowd seemed to thicken around them, pressing in on Harry and making him feel strangely claustrophobic. He desperately wished he could take Draco's hand for comfort, but given the crowd he doubted he would have been comfortable even if Draco had been inclined to hold hands. He kept feeling like something would spring out of the crowd and grab him or something and the press of people made him feel slightly ill.

Harry almost bumped into Draco when he stopped abruptly in front of an old, dingy little storefront. There was no sign above the door and there weren't any windows. Draco gave him a brief grin and opened the door, dragging Harry in behind him. It was a small shop, cluttered with various odds and ends on countless shelves and tables. One of the walls was lined with innumerable old and battered-looking books, another with various orbs and what looked suspiciously like snow globes. The outward facing wall was stocked with various stuffed animals and other similar toys. More shelves and tables made it impossible to cross the room in anything even remotely resembling a straight line, but despite the general air of disorganization, the store was clean and surprisingly cheery. Still more random trinkets were piled haphazardly on the shelves behind the cashier, which was located on the far side of the shop. Behind the counter lounged a tall, lanky young wizard of perhaps twenty with his multi-colored hair falling limply around his shoulders. Harry couldn't help staring at his hair—it wasn't just a mix of fuchsia, plum, cerise, and indigo highlights: the colors pulsed and rippled over his head, each strand constantly shifting in color and coming together to form ever-changing waves of color. The effect was… amazing.

Then the wizard looked up and Harry found himself staring into casual, lazy ice-blue eyes framed with golden-framed, rectangular glasses. He tossed his hair over his shoulder in a way that made Harry's stomach lurch. But then the man nodded and turned back to whatever he'd been doing.

Draco caught Harry's hand and dragged him over through the maze of tables to one near the left side of the store. The table had several boxes filled with various rocks, crystals, and scales in various shapes and sizes. Draco picked up one of the smaller scales and handed it to Harry. When he touched it, he felt a brief electric shock that left his fingers tingling. The scale was an iridescent green, about the size and shape of his palm. The surface was smooth and glossy, and slightly curved.

"It's a dragon scale. I'm not sure what kind—maybe a Common Welsh Green?—but they're powerful." Draco returned the scale to its box and lifted one of the stones. It was smooth, slightly egg-shaped and a misty, translucent white in color. But as Draco held it in his palm, a cool, deep green spread across it, radiating out from Draco's hand. He glanced up at Harry. "This is made from crushed phoenix bones—they crush it and heat it and it turns into this glass. Then they shape it just like regular glass, except that phoenix bones are sturdier. It's hollow and the actual glass is paper thin, but a herd of dragons could trample it and it wouldn't even get scratched. It's filled with rosewater, and it helps you focus. Here."

Suppressing his reservations about holding something made from phoenix bones, Harry accepted the stone. It was surprisingly heavy and warm in Harry's hand—not uncomfortably so, more of a comforting weight. Something about the heat and weight make it feel as though the stone was alive, almost pulsing in his hand. After a few seconds, a million faint colors began spreading from his hand, mingling and clashing with each other until they faded back to white at the center of the stone.

"Think about something," Draco told him.

"Like what?"

"How about Gryffindor."

"Huh?"

"Just think about Gryffindor. Think about your common room, your Housemates, your Gryffindor ideals. Whatever. Just think about it."

Harry tried to think about Ron and Hermione sitting in the common room right now. They were probably playing chess. Ron would be winning, and Fred and George would be pulling some sort of prank. He could almost see the fire burning away merrily in the fireplace and shining on Ron's flaming red hair, making him look positively stunning. And Hermione was facing him, her smile almost flirtatious, though Ron was—as always—oblivious. He was about to win rather spectacularly because Hermione had never been particularly good at chess. There was an explosion upstairs, and a few seconds later Fred and George came running down the stairs, laughing hard. A few seconds later, Percy followed them looking rather displeased. His hair and robes seemed slightly singed and Harry wondered what the twins had done this time. But instead of following the twins, Percy walked over to Harry and firmly plucked the egg out of his hand.

Suddenly, Harry found himself back in the shop, looking up into the shopkeeper's soft sapphire eyes and feeling very disoriented.

"That's the danger of phoenix glass eggs," he said, his voice calm and warm and sending shivers down Harry's spin. "They help you focus, but if you lose control you can become 'too focused' and get trapped." He smiled and returned the egg to the table.

"Harry," Draco said, dragging his attention back from the shopkeeper's gorgeous hair, and eyes, and nose, and mouth, and robes and… "We need to get going. Father's probably looking for us by now."

The shopkeeper smiled, a smile that made Harry want to just melt, and went back behind the counter.

Draco caught Harry's hand, dragging him out of the shop. Harry hardly even noticed Knockturn Alley as he followed Draco—it seemed that he didn't need a magic egg to get too focused on that shopkeeper. He barely even noticed that Draco was actually holding his hand, though admittedly it seemed to be more for the purpose of dragging him through the crowd than to actually _hold his hand_.

About halfway back, they ran into Mr. Malfoy.

"Draco!" Mr. Malfoy said in annoyance when he spotted them.

"Yes Father?" Draco asked patiently.

"What did I tell you about wandering?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I just took him to—"

"It doesn't matter _where_ you took him. Coming to Knockturn Alley is a privilege, and if you can't demonstrate that you're mature enough not to wander off without telling me, than obviously you aren't old enough. I can always leave you in Diagon Alley."

"But Father, even Gregory and Vincent can come here _on their own_."

"Well, as neither Mr. Goyle nor Mr. Crabbe is your father, I don't see what that has to do with you. _I'm_ your father, and you'll do as I say."

Draco made a face, but either Mr. Malfoy didn't notice or he didn't care. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can we please go get ice cream now?"

"I said we could if you behaved."

"Oh come on, it's not as if I did anything _bad_. I just went off on my own. And I said I was sorry."

"Draco—" Mr. Malfoy said in a warning tone.

Draco pouted at him. "Please?"

"Draco, I know your mother spoils you rotten, but I will not put up with this behavior!"

"But Father, we have a _guest_."

Mr. Malfoy sighed. "Oh all right. But I'm not buying you anything else."

* * *

A/N: Master of the flames: It's not a matter of time and affection; it's a matter of which one's feeling very sick and tired and needs to be nursed back to health.  
Well yeah, there is an aspect of me just slagging off... and real life intervening (yes, I do have a life beyond writing fanfics... I beta read, too. :D) But Over the Rainbow's been feeling a bit under the weather lately, and has been demanding all my attention. Stars-n-moons91, Kashiaga, and Orange: Thanks.


	17. Malfoy Manor

When they had finished their ice cream, they took a carriage to Malfoy Manor. Draco sat next to Harry, across from his father. No one talked during the ride. Draco stared out the window, watching as houses and shops changed to familiar fields and forests. Finally the tall, heavily ornamented stone walls and iron gates of Malfoy Manor came into sight. Malfoy Manor was surrounded by thick, stone walls decorated with runes and symbols, though you couldn't see the carvings unless you were standing right in front of them. The symbols, of course, were spells for protection, concealment and so on and Draco had been told that there were more embedded inside the wall, along with various magical items of protection. The iron gates themselves were similarly ornamented, though there was also a spell to recognize a member of the Malfoy family – by blood or by marriage – and open for them and only them. Of course, they also had another spell so that they wouldn't open from the inside to anyone under the age of 11. On either side of the gates were identical, giant dragons, seemingly imprisoned in stone, standing on their hind legs, upper claws reaching out menacingly towards intruders, mouths open in silent screams of warning. Only their eyes held any color: set with giant rubies, they glittered threateningly in the sunlight.

When he was little, Draco had frequently tried to climb over the walls or up the gate, but he had never made it. He had wanted to try climbing the dragons, but they were on the outside of the Manor and he had always been stuck on the inside. By the time he could leave the Manor at will, he'd had better things to do than try to climb statues of dragons – not do mention more dignity than to get caught climbing about like some penniless muggle-lover.

The carriage slowed as it neared the gates until they recognized the two Malfoys approaching and swung silently open to reveal Malfoy Manor itself. It was surrounded by snow-covered forest and dormant plant life. The road extended right up to the heavy, wooden front doors. The Manor itself was a towering building – almost a castle – with towers reaching up towards the clouds and a balcony stretching over the front door. And of course, the sun sinking between the two tallest towers was always a nice touch.

It was, in its way, even more impressive than Hogwarts, though Draco had rarely noticed. Having grown up here, he had never really seen it 'the first time,' so unlike with Hogwarts, he'd never had the opportunity to be impressed.

Harry, though, was staring in awe. Draco suppressed a smile at his boyfriend's expression, wishing he could grab the boy's hand, or slip his arm around his waist and rest his head on Harry's shoulder – or maybe just kiss him. That would work too…

But Father was there, so Draco restrained himself.

Draco let Father climb out of the carriage first, then motioned for Harry to get out. Father didn't even bother to wait for them before setting off up the remaining stretch of road to the door, leaving Draco and Harry to catch up with him. But Father was an impatient and busy man, and Draco was used to it by now.

The tall, wooden doors were ornately carved, though Draco thought it was probably all just ornamental. At least, _he_ had never been able to identify any spells on them. Father threw them opened – again, they were enchanted to open at the touch of a Malfoy, though without the age restrictions.

His mother was standing in the front hallway, looking thoroughly fretful.

"Where on Earth have you been?" she exclaimed the moment she saw them. "I've been so worried!" Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"I took them to Knockturn Alley to—"

"_Knockturn Alley?_ Lucius, that place is _dangerous!_ They're only _children_!" Mother protested, blanching.

"They're 13, Narcissa." Father pointed out. "Draco will be graduating Hogwarts before you know it."

"Do you have any idea what could have happened? And with Sirius Black on the loose—"

"Narcissa—" Father began wearily.

"And what on Earth were you doing in Knockturn Alley, anyway?" Mother snapped.

"It's not important," Father said evasively.

"Than why did you have to drag my son all the way to Knockturn Alley, if it's so unimportant? Without even bothering to tell me… Do you have any idea how worried I was? Sirius Black could have—"

Draco caught Harry's eye, glancing towards the stairway before moving towards it as unobtrusively as he could, hoping to get away while his parents were busy fighting. Unfortunately, Mother noticed him the moment he moved and turned her attention to him, smiling warmly.

"Draco, welcome home."

"Hello Mother," Draco responded automatically, suppressing his irritation. He wasn't even sure what about her irritated him, but something every time she spoke, he wanted to scream.

"How has school been going?"

"Good," Draco told her as warmly as he could.

"'_Well,' _not 'good,'" Father corrected in an undertone, but Draco ignored him.

"And this must be Harry," Mother said, seeming to notice the boy for the first time. She gave him a brief, appraising look smiling at him. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

Harry gave her a nervous, uncomfortable smile. "Hi."

"Dinner will be in about an hour, so how about you two go upstairs and unpack," she suggested.

Draco nodded and set off upstairs to his room, Harry following close behind. The house-elves had brought their bags home and unpacked for them while they were in Knockturn Alley. Draco pulled the door closed behind them, locking it though he knew his parents wouldn't think twice about charming it open without even bothering to knock first and the house-elves wouldn't come in uninvited if he was there for fear of their miserable little lives. But at least if the door was locked, his parents couldn't say he'd left it unlocked, obviously inviting intrusion, if they did come in. For all that they demanded space and privacy from everyone else – including each other – these concepts didn't seem to apply to other people, and most especially not their son.

Harry glanced around the room and Draco was suddenly aware of how little his room had of him anymore. A few pictures, some old toys he hadn't touched in years, but not much else. Immaculately clean and neat, his room was about as soulless as if a dementor had kissed it. His clothes hung too neatly in his closet, his undamaged books orderly on his bookshelf, his desk clean and empty, his bed clean and newly made. Even the heavy, green velvet curtains covering the tall, glass door leading out to the balcony seemed hollow and lifeless. He'd stayed in hotels rooms that were more personalized than his bedroom.

Harry didn't seem to notice though, coming up behind him to slip his arms around Draco's waist, gently nuzzling his neck. Draco smiled, catching one of Harry's hands and bringing it up to his lips.

"Your parents seem… nice," Harry murmured.

Draco tensed, wondering if what Harry meant by that. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Nicer than I'd expected."

Draco wondered for a moment what Harry had expected – blood-sucking demons? Sadistic tyrants? Horned, fanged monsters? – but decided to let it go. He really didn't want to end up having an argument with Harry within minutes of getting home.

Instead he turned around in Harry's arms, kissing Harry's mouth and loosing himself in the warmth of Harry's body.

* * *

A/N: Master of the flames: Trust me, this fic is in no way, shape, or form sick. I've got hundreds of scenes already planned out and I'm having a ton of fun writing this, so you don't have to sing (yet). Trekkie-54: Thanks :D Must go fix that. And I'll try to update (some story or other) at least a few times (3 or more) a week. TheArtOfQuicksilver: Glad you like this. It's basically what my friends and I "saw" when we watched the movie, just with all the details filled in. Orange: Thanks  



	18. Good Morning

Dinner that night was a quiet, formal affair. A small, female house-elf served the meal, unobtrusively bringing in each course and refilling their glasses with wine. Harry had never really had wine before; the Dursleys, of course, wouldn't let him have a glass of water half the time, much less _wine,_ and they always had juice at Hogwarts. After taking a small sip, he decided he'd be just as happy to keep it that way – he was hard put not to make a face at the taste.

Draco took one look at the purple liquid filling his cup and turned to the house-elf. "I thought I told you to give me firewhiskey."

"No," his mother said firmly. The house-elf looked from Mrs. Malfoy to Draco, confused. "You'll have wine with dinner."

"But—"

"_Draco,_" his father said sharply.

Draco glared at his father and took a resentful gulp of his wine. Mr. Malfoy gave a slight smile and everyone turned back to their dinner. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

After dessert, Harry and Draco went up to bed. Draco showed Harry to the guest room, which was adjacent to Draco's. The first thing Harry noticed about the room was that it had been decorated more or less according to the Gryffindor color scheme of red and gold. A lush, red carpet; a red comforter over gold sheets and pillows on the four-poster bed in the center of the room; red curtains trimmed with gold covering the window; a redwood bookshelf, wardrobe, and nightstand; red candles in their sconces around the room…. Harry found it all surprisingly comforting. His things were already unpacked and neatly put away, presumably by the house-elves.

Draco flicked his wand and the candles flared to life, filling the room with a warm, gentle light.

"The bathroom's at the end of the hall. Good night."

Draco kissed him lightly and left, closing the door behind him.

Once he was alone, Harry sank down in his bed. He hadn't drunk all that much, but the wine had left him slightly lightheaded and he tired. He pulled off his clothes, pulling on his pajamas, which were lying neatly on the bed, set his glasses on the nightstand, and crawled under the covers. As an afterthought, he reached for his wand and muttered "_Nox!_" The candles went out sloppily, hot wax spattering onto the wall.

But Harry didn't really care and within a few minutes he'd fallen asleep.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=  
  
Harry woke the next morning to find Draco sitting on a cushion on the floor with his back against the wall. Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses and looking back at Draco. Now he saw the Draco was wearing pajamas – a loose, blue, cotton t-shirt and dark green pajama bottoms. He was holding a book in his hands, but his eyes were on Harry.

"You're up."

"What time is it?"

"About 6, last I checked."

Harry groaned and sank back into bed, pulling the covers up over his head. Draco laughed softly and a moment later, the bed creaked as Draco sat down next to him. Then he felt Draco's hand on his shoulder. Draco pulled back the covers, revealing Harry's head, though Harry kept his eyes closed. He felt light brush of Draco's lips against his neck and couldn't suppress a smile.

"Time to get up," Draco whispered, his lips brushing Harry's ear.

"It's 6 in the morning, Draco. Go back to bed."

"Or you could get up."

In response, Harry rolled over and buried his head underneath the pillows.

Draco sighed. "Oh fine. I'll go back to bed."

"Or you could stay here," Harry mumbled into the mattress.

"What did you say?"

Harry rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at Draco. He opened his mouth to repeat what he'd said, but Draco leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Harry's lips parted readily and he reached up, slipping his arms around Draco's neck. When their mouths parted, Draco dropped down next to Harry, his head resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Or you could stay here," Harry murmured.

"Mm…" After a moment, Draco managed to squirm his way under the covers. Harry nestled closer to him, drifting back into sleep in Draco's arms.

When Harry woke again, Draco was still asleep. For several minutes, Harry just watched Draco sleep. He looked beautiful when he was sleeping – almost like an angel with his fine, silky, white-blond hair falling over his eye, his skin so pale it was almost translucent, and his lips curve upwards in a slight smile. He seemed so young and innocent, not at all like the selfish, arrogant bastard he normally presented to the world.

Not that Draco would want to hear that – he'd probably kick Harry if he mentioned it. While Draco liked compliments, he generally seemed to prefer 'annoying, slimy, sexy git who I lust after madly' over 'beautiful, sweet charming angel.'

Harry reached down, brushing the lock of Draco's hair out of his eye. A moment later, Draco's eyes fluttered open.

"You have really long eyelashes," Harry murmured without really thinking.

Draco blinked at him. "I what?"

"You have long eyelashes," Harry said, blushing slightly. "I mean, you can't really see them very well, since they're so pale, but they're actually pretty long. I'd never really noticed that before."

Draco snorted. "And you're looking at my eyelashes because …?"

"Er …"

Draco sat up, looking at Harry. "Can't you think of anything else to say? I mean, why is it always 'er'? Why not 'um,' or 'uh' or something more original?"

"Er … 'um …'?"

Draco sighed. "You're hopeless. You know that?"

Harry smiled. "Er?"

Draco shook his head and pushed back the covers. "What time is it?"

"Er, 7:30," Harry said, glancing up at the clock. Much though he would have liked to sleep in until about noon, it seemed that the Hogwarts schedule was firmly imprinted in his system. Or maybe it was just that he was in a strange house and was nervous. But whatever the reason, he doubted he'd be getting anymore sleep.

"Well, breakfast's at 9, so that gives us an hour and a half."

"To do what?"

Draco shrugged. "Whatever we want." He climbed out of the bed, stretching.

"Like sleeping?" Harry suggested.

Draco rolled his eyes and walked over to the window, pulling open the curtains to let the cold, clear, early-morning sunlight pour in. The room looked much more cheerful filled with sunlight.

Behind the curtains was a glass, sliding door, much like the one in Draco's room. Draco pushed open the door and a gust of icy cold air rushed into the room, making Harry shiver and snuggle deeper down into the blankets.

"Come on outside," Draco said from the doorway.

Harry pulled the blankets closer around him. After a moment, Draco walked over him and tried to pull the covers away. Harry only held them tighter.

"You can't stay in bed all day," Draco said.

"It's 7:30. That's hardly 'all day,'" Harry pointed out.

Draco looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding something, which make Harry tense with apprehension. He was fairly certain that whatever Draco was considering, he wasn't going to like it.

Draco confirmed his fears by giving a slight nod to himself and reaching over and, in a single move, pushing Harry – blankets and all – out of the bed and onto the floor. He landed with a loud _thud_, hitting his shoulder, hip, and head hard against the floor. Draco was smirking and Harry glared at him.

"Ouch," Harry said belatedly. "That hurt."

"But it got you out of bed," Draco said calmly.

"Oh yeah, thanks for that too," Harry said as he unwound himself from the tangled mess of blankets. "Shouldn't you be trying to get me _into_ bed – you know, being my boyfriend and all?"

"You'd think. Unfortunately, the age of consent – at least in wizarding England – is 17. So until then, that would be illegal."

Harry blinked. He hadn't actually known that, though it made sense. Everything in the wizarding world seemed to happen either when you were 11 or 17. "And how many people actually obey those laws?"

"Well … no one really. Except for pathetic swots with no social skills who can't find themselves anyone to break said laws _with_ before then. And a few really conservative, religious nut-jobs – you know, Je-whosiwhatsit Witless people and the like. But that's not the point."

"Not exactly religious, are you?"

"Of course I'm religious. I worship myself, don't I?"

Harry snorted. "That you do," he agreed. "You want to help me up?"

Draco shook his head. "No, it's far more amusing to watch you sitting there on the floor like that." But he walked over to Harry and extended his hand to Harry anyway.

Harry pulled himself up and Draco gave him an appraising look. "All that gray really doesn't suit you, Potter," he said after a moment.

Harry glanced down at his pajamas. "And what would suit me better?"

Draco paused for a moment to consider. "I'm not really sure. Maybe something a little more colorful…."

"What, you want me go get some pajamas covered with rainbow stripes or something?"

"Hmm… that's not a bad idea, actually," Draco replied thoughtfully.

"_Draco!_"

"What? What's wrong with rainbows?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Nothing, but…."

"But?"

"Oh never mind. I just like gray, all right?"

Draco made a face at him. "Always bright and cheery, aren't you? It's no wonder bad things keep happening to you. You can't even _dress_ optimistically. _Gray._"

"Is there a reason you shoved me out of bed, or can I go back to sleep?"

Draco grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door. Harry stopped short at the door, seeing the layer on snow covering the balcony, not to mention feeling the chill of the air outside.

"What now?" Draco asked in annoyance.

"There's _snow_ out there."

"Yes – in case you hadn't noticed yet, it's winter. And during the winter, it _snows_. Which leaves _snow_ outside."

"It's cold."

"Yes, that also happens in the winter," Draco said patiently.

He and Harry stared at each other for a long moment until Harry finally sighed. "At least let me put on some shoes or something."

"Oh fine."

It took Harry awhile to find his shoes; apparently one of the house-elves had come in during the night and put away his shoes as well as cleaning the spattered wax from his sloppy spell off the walls. And then he had to find his socks, which had also been neatly put away – in his wardrobe, of course – and were therefore impossible to find. Draco watched him searching with a mixture of amusement and growing impatience.

In the end, Harry found his slippers and decided to wear them instead, much to Draco's annoyance.

He shivered as he walked out onto the balcony, wishing he'd thought to find a jumper or a coat or something. But when he turned to go back inside, Draco slipped his arms firmly around Harry's waist.

"Enough fussing," he murmured in Harry's ear.

"I'm not fussing," Harry snapped back. "I'm just cold."

"Then let me keep you warm," Draco replied, demonstrating by wrapping his surprisingly warm body around Harry, who found himself wondering how someone so skinny – not to mention pale and frozen-looking – could feel so warm against his body. "Now look," he said softly, pointing out beyond the railing of the balcony.

Harry complied, gazing down at the Manor grounds, spread out like a giant tapestry beneath them; it was … breathtaking. Snow-covered trees and statues met with dark, stone walls, which seemed much smaller from up here, and beyond the walls stretched the road leading to Malfoy Manor, the trees and fields, and beyond them the town.

He could feel Draco's breath on his ear, his pointy chin resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Draco whispered.

"Mm…" Harry agreed.

"Well, that's an improvement over 'er.'"

Harry turned his head to glare at Draco, who smirked back at him. Unable to think of a decent retort, Harry did the next best thing and kissed him, turning in Draco's arms to face him. Draco responded, pushing him up against the railing and kissing him back. Harry's fingers moved almost automatically to the back of Draco's head, twining in his hair and pulling his lips closer. He hardly noticed the snow – cold, wet and melting – on the railing against his back. Draco's mouth was hot and hungry against his, his body burning hot around him, his hands moving over Harry's hips and back, slipping up under his shirt to caress his skin.

Harry shivered as a gust of wind brushed against the bare skin where Draco pushed up his nightshirt, but the cold didn't really seem to matter anymore. Not with Draco moving his hands and mouth over Harry's body the way he was, kissing Harry fiercely.

Suddenly he pushed away, glaring irritably at his hand – or, more accurately, his Malfoy signet ring.

"Breakfast," he explained. "Ten minute warning." And then, noticing Harry's bewildered look, "The ring's enchanted to heat up and change color to warn me about various things. Red when Father wants me, blue when it's mum, black when we have important, unexpected visitors, and yellow before meals and ceremonies and such. And if I don't notice it, it starts heating up until it almost starts to melt – at which point my finger's been pretty badly burned and if I haven't noticed yet, then I'm probably in a lot more trouble than just missing breakfast."

"Sounds like a nuisance."

Draco shrugged. "You get used to it. Anyway, we'd better get dressed. Wear robes."

Draco went back to his room through the door from the balcony and Harry returned to his own. Draco told him to pack mostly robes, since the Malfoys were purebloods and, to Harry's understanding, wore robes pretty much 24/7. And when they didn't wear robes, they wore clothes that hadn't been seen in the muggle world since at least the Middle Ages, if not earlier.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't really have much in the way of casual robes, since he usually wore muggle clothes when he wasn't wearing his school uniform. When he mentioned this to Draco, the boy had given him a look of disgust and lent him two outfits. He had also forced Harry to agree to go shopping for 'decent clothing' over the vacation.

And of course, Draco had refused to even consider _ever_ wearing muggle clothes, but Harry had decided not to push it. It wasn't like what Draco wore really mattered to Harry; as far as he was concerned, Draco looked stunning no matter what he wore.

Now he found one of the outfits – a floor-length, sleeveless, dark-green under-robe (a dress, as far as Harry was concerned), laced up the back and a black over-robe with long, loose sleeves, and silver dragons embroidered on the front. He pulled the under-robe on over his head and stopped. Now how on Earth was he going to tie the under-robe? Who had come up with the idea of putting laces in _back _of the robes? And why hadn't they been locked away before they spread their madness to others?

Harry sighed, looking at himself in the mirror and he tried to figure out how to tie up the robes. That was when he noticed that both robes had been tailored perfectly to Draco's body, and while he and Draco were similar in size, Draco was enough taller and thinner that the robe looked rather awkward on Harry. Harry had never really been all that good at transfiguration, and he'd never learned to refit clothes to fit him (unsurprisingly, it wasn't part of the Hogwarts Transfiguration curriculum). However, this meant that when he attempted to shorten the hem so he wouldn't trip on it, it ended up somewhere around his knees. His attempt to lengthen it again left him with several extra yards of cloth pooling around his ankles. He continued to attempt to readjust the robes to fit him, with worse and worse results and getting more and more flustered with each attempt.

He glanced up at the clock to find that he had all of three minutes left – and he hadn't even _started_ on the over-robe, nor had he figured out how to tie the bloody laces. Before he'd thought the ten minutes a generous overestimate of the time it would take to get ready. Now he was wishing that he had at least another hour.

Swearing silently to himself, he made another attempt to tighten the robe around his waist, only to find it shrink until he could hardly breathe. He quickly attempted to loosen it – just enough that he could breathe – only to have it expand enough that it would probably fit Dudley with room to spare. He heard a soft snicker from the doorway and looked up to find Draco dressed and watching him with extreme amusement.

"Having fun there?"

"No," Harry said dolefully.

Draco smirked and folded his arms, leaning languidly against the doorframe. "I suppose I should be angry at the way you've managed to destroy my clothing, but fortunately for you, I'm in a forgiving mood. And you're cute when you're flustered."

Harry glared at him. "Are you going to help me or just stand there and gloat?"

Draco smiled sweetly. "Will you say please?"

"_Draco_."

"Yes?"

Harry just glared at him.

Draco smiled back at him, unperturbed. "Say please."

"Please," Harry spat.

"You know, maybe if you're nice to me I might show you how to do this yourself," Draco commented cordially as he and walked across the room. With a few waves of his wand, the robes were neatly laced and fit him perfectly. Harry pulled on the over-robe, and Draco easily resized them too. "There now. You look lovely."

"Lovely," Harry repeated.

"Yes. Lovely."

"I don't _want_ to be lovely," Harry protested. "Handsome, maybe, or sexy or stunning or … something. But not _lovely._"

"Oh shut up and let's go to breakfast. We have 30 seconds."

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

After a breakfast that was only marginally less formal and stilted than dinner had been, Draco asked his parents if he and Harry could go down to the town.

"Of course not," Mrs. Malfoy said. "It's too dangerous."

Draco turned to Mr. Malfoy. "Father, can we _please_ go? I promise neither of us will get killed."

Mr. Malfoy glanced at his wife. "Well, I don't like disagreeing with your mother, but I really see no reason you—"

"_Lucius,_" Mrs. Malfoy said, horrified. "Do you know could happen to them?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "What, we run into raving lunatics escaped from Azkaban who kill both of us? Black doesn't even know where Harry is."

"Well, he managed to break out of Azkaban, didn't he? And he got into and out of Hogwarts – _Harry's dormitory_, no less – without getting caught. Who knows what he's capable of?"

"Not us, apparently," Draco muttered.

"I know Black's a danger, Narcissa, but really Narcissa. He wouldn't be foolish enough to attack them in full daylight. Not with everyone on the watch for him."

"Well, Black's not the only danger, you know," Mrs. Malfoy said defensively.

"Yeah, like You-Know-Who," Draco muttered. "And Death Eaters – no wait, _they're_ our friends. But there are always psychopathic Weasleys to worry about."

Mrs. Malfoy went white at the mention of the Weasleys and Mr. Malfoy turned to face Draco, his expression deadly cold. For a moment, Draco glared at his parents. Then he looked away.

"Look, we'll be perfectly safe…."

"No," Mr. Malfoy said firmly.

Draco stared at the floor for a moment, then stormed out of the room. Now Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy seemed to notice Harry for the first time. They both looked away, as though they were embarrassed, and Harry left to go follow Draco.

He found Draco standing outside in the balcony, staring blankly out into space. It had started snowing again and the white, fat flakes make a sharp contrast against Draco's black robes. Harry came to stand beside him.

Draco didn't turn or otherwise acknowledge Harry's presence, but after a moment he said softly, "Do you know, Mother didn't even want to let me go to Hogsmeade with the rest of the school." There was a slight sneer in his voice, but beneath it was another emotion that Harry couldn't quite pinpoint – Resentment? Pain? Fear? He wasn't sure. "It took Father and me _days_ to persuade her that I wasn't going to get killed or maimed or kidnapped or something. And they have Snape watching me, reporting back to them and telling them that I'm still alive and intact. Which is odd, considering that Snape betrayed them and all, not to mention that he and Father loathe each other. But Snape and Mother get on all right, and I think they trust Snape not to lie about me for some reason."

Now Draco turned to face Harry and there was a slight smile playing at his lips.

"So, what are we going to do for the rest of the day?"

"Hmm … you brought your Firebolt, didn't you? We could go flying or something – as long as we don't leave the Manor grounds, that is. Otherwise Mother will have a fit if she finds out. Which she will."

"Has it ever occurred to you that your mother is paranoid and should probably see a therapist or something?"

"My parents were Death Eaters, Harry. They _both_ need therapy. Now go get your broom." Seeing the expression on Harry's face, he sighed and added, "Mind out of the gutter, Potter."

Harry just grinned and went to go find his Firebolt.

* * *

A/N: Trekkie54: Glad to make you happy. :P Updates are very happy events, aren't they? Outlaw of the West: Eventually. I'll let you know when I'm stuck on this story, so you can resume your singing. It usually happens the moment I insist I know what I'm doing and won't get stuck, so I'm not going to. I also generally mention what I'm working on in my lj, which is now included amungst the links in my bio. Lizzy: Wow, I have lurkers--unsurprisingly enough, but please don't ruin my moment. :D And yeah, I'd love to see that picture. I e-mailed you, but my e-mail's been acting wierd lately, so tell me if you haven't gotten it yet. And thanks so much for commenting. Kashaiga: Thanks  
Orange: You're back!! And I greet you with over 9,000 words to beta--what a good friend. :P 


	19. Ice Skating

After breakfast the next morning, Draco suggested that they go skating.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Ice skating," Draco repeated. "Don't tell me Muggles don't go ice skating."

"Of course they do," Harry said nervously. Uncle Vernon had taken them skating several times, though Uncle Vernon had refused to get Harry any skates, so Harry had ended up spending the whole time sitting and watching the other children. "I just … never learned."

"Why not?" Draco asked, looking at him as if this were a crime worthy of a life sentence in Azkaban.

Harry glared at him. "I was too busy being locked up in a closet. _Sorry_."

"Figuratively speaking," Draco said with a smirk.

Harry flushed slightly. "And literally."

Draco blinked at him. "They _literally _kept you locked up in a _closet_?"

"Yeah. The cupboard under the stairs."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" Draco asked him sharply.

"Er… I guess so," Harry said. He hadn't really given much thought to whether or not Dumbledore was aware of his childhood with the Dursleys. "I mean, the letter from Hogwarts was addressed to me to 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs,' so he must."

"Look, I know you trust Dumbledore and everything, but … do you really think he's looking out for your best interests?"

Harry looked away. He knew Dumbledore was doing his best to protect him; he didn't know how or why, but he was sure of it. "He … he's doing his best, and he probably has a really good reason."

Draco looked unconvinced. "It had better be a pretty damn good reason."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Anyway, since you've never learned to skate, I'll just have to teach you."

Harry felt his heart sink. "You have to?"

"Yes. It'll be fun."

About ten minutes later, Draco was dragging Harry across the snow to the lake out behind Malfoy Manor, carrying two pairs of ice skates. The lake – technically a pond, according to Draco, though Harry wasn't sure what the difference was – was only slightly smaller than the one at Hogwarts. It was surrounded by shallow banks of tightly packed snow. When they reached the edge of the lake, Draco handed Harry one pair of ice skates and sat down in the snow to put on his own.

Harry sat down next to him, reluctantly pulling off his boots. The last time he'd been this close to a pair of ice skates, he'd been six years old and they'd been hurtling through the air towards his face. It had been the first time Dudley had ever gone skating. Harry had truly enjoyed watching as Dudley scrambled and slid across the ice, trying desperately to maintain his balance and failing spectacularly – until afterwards when Dudley had taken off his skates and, in a fit of anger and frustration, flung one at Harry. The blade had sliced deeply into Harry's cheek, only just missing his eye. He had had to get stitches and Aunt Petunia had refused to feed him for two days, saying he had provoked Dudley. After that, Harry had made a point of avoiding Dudley after he'd been skating, and anything to do with skating at all.

But this was Draco, not Dudley, and Harry doubted that Draco would ever have thrown his skates at Harry, even when they were enemies. For one thing, he wouldn't have wanted to get blood on them.

So Harry gritted his teeth and set pulled the skates on over his socks. Draco was already on the ice, gliding over it with a natural ease and grace, as at home here as Harry was in the air. He circled the pond once before coming to a halt before where Harry was still sitting.

"Are you going to get up, or do you plan on sitting in the snow all day?"

Harry made a face and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He felt awkward in the skates – unbalanced, too tall, and his feet were too heavy.

"That's a good start," Draco said in an overly encouraging tone.

"You're mocking me."

"Would I do a thing like that?" Draco asked with feigned innocence.

"Yes."

"All right now, next you have to get on the ice."

Harry resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at Draco, instead walking towards the ice. The moment he stepped onto the smooth surface, he felt his feet slide out from under him and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with Draco laughing over him. Usually he loved it when Draco laughed –not his usual mocking, sarcastic laugh, but really laughed. His laughter was even more rare than his smiles, and Harry usually treasured each laugh, knowing that he was one of the few who had ever seen Draco truly laugh. Normally. Right now, though, he wished he could smack the boy. And he would have, if he could have gotten up.

"All right, Potter. Lesson one: getting up after you've fallen down. I suspect you'll get very good at this."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Harry muttered irritably.

"My pleasure," Draco replied, now skating in circles around Harry.

"Are you going to tell me how to get up, or just gloat?"

Draco tilted his head to one side, his face thoughtful. "I don't know… I rather like you like this…."

With an effort, Harry resisted the impulse to trip him as he passed by Harry's feet again, remembering all too well how easily the blade of Dudley's skate had cute into his flesh. Instead he just glared mutely at Draco until the boy sighed.

"Oh all right. Sit up. Now get into a sort of kneeling position." Harry complied and Draco applauded. "Very good."

"I hate you," Harry informed him.

"Been there. Done that. Bought all the tacky souvenirs. Now get up on one knee. Good. Now put your hands on your knee and push yourself up."

Harry managed to get to his feet, feeling very wobbly. A moment later, he lost his balance, but this time, Draco grabbed his waist, holding him upright until he got his footing. Harry clung helplessly to the boy, wishing there was a wall or something he could hold onto instead. He had a sudden image of a six-year-old Dudley desperately hanging onto the wall at the edge of the rink as Harry watched, trying hard not to laugh, and he felt a fleeting twinge of disturbing sympathy for his cousin, before he quickly shut the memory out. He _would_ _not _think about that.

Draco let go, and Harry managed to stand on his own for several seconds before he had to catch Draco's shoulder and steady himself. When he let go, he felt a little more stable.

"Okay," Draco said. "Now that you can stand, try walking."

"Walking?"

"Yes – you know, when you move your feet back and forth and go places."

Harry attempted to take a step and once again felt his feet slip and found himself lying flat on his back. This time, he managed to get to his feet without falling over, much to his relief.

"Try taking little baby steps," Draco suggested. "And don't move your feet along the ice too much."

Harry managed to take one step, lifting his foot and setting it down on the ice a few inches forwards, and another before his foot slipped and he found himself staring up at the sky again. For the next few minutes, Draco had Harry walking across the ice, and feeling stupider and stupider by the moment. He was just glad that no one else was here to witness this, because he was sure the rest of his friends all knew how to skate and would probably be laughing just as hard as Draco was.

Finally, Draco was satisfied that he could take a few steps without falling flat on his back and had him start trying to actually glide a little. By the time the time it started snowing around noon, Harry was more or less able to skate around the pond, though Draco's habit of doing some impressive jump or spin just when Harry was beginning to feel proud of how well he was doing was annoying, to say the least.

"It's snowing," Draco commented, looking up at the sky.

"Wow, you're almost as observant as Hermione."

"Of course I am – more so, in fact. I'm a Malfoy, aren't I?"

"Then how come she gets better marks than you in just about everything?"

Draco gave baleful look. "Just because I _have_ incredible observation skills and just happen to be a genius doesn't mean I have to exercise said talents at every possible opportunity. We Slytherins are intelligent enough to understand that it's usually best to play stupid and have everyone underestimate you than to flaunt your intelligence for all the world too see."

Harry snorted. "Well in that case, Crabbe and Goyle must be smarter than Einstein."

"Who?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind."

"Now I'm curious."

"A Muggle scientist."

"Muggle what?"

"Scientist." Harry frowned, trying to figure out how to explain what a scientist was. Hermione would have been able to – she was always good at explaining Muggle things to Wizards – but she wasn't here. "Someone who … researches stuff. Sort of…."

"Right, never mind. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain manner-less Gryffindor: it's snowing, I'm getting hungry and cold, so let's go inside, find lunch, and sit down in front of a nice warm fire and snog until Mother finds us and has a fit about … something?"

"Sounds good to me. Well, except the part where your mother has a fit – is that really necessary?"

"Absolutely."

The two of them made their way over to one of the snow banks to change back into their boots, Harry being exceedingly careful of his blade. Somehow the skates seemed incredibly dangerous once they were off his feet.

Suddenly, Harry turned to Draco as something occurred to him. "Wasn't it snowing yesterday?"

"What was that you were saying about _my_ observation skills?"

Harry made a face "How come there isn't any snow on the pond?"

"The house-elves clear it off."

"Always?"

Draco shrugged. "I think so. My great-great-grandmother, Cecelia Malfoy, ordered the house-elves to always keep the pond cleared off and no one's ordered them otherwise yet."

"So they just … keep doing it?"

Draco nodded. "And they always will; as long as there's a pond and house-elves, the house-elves will clear off snow and branches off the ice."

"So if you told one to stand in a certain spot, he would until you told him he could move?"

Draco nodded again, climbing to his feet. "Or until he died. If I ordered one to make sure a house-elf was standing in a certain spot, then they'd probably take turns and would be standing there until the end of time. But I really don't see a problem with having them keep the pond cleared off. If they didn't, I'd just have to tell them to anyways."

Harry finished tying his boots and they set off towards the house. "And does anyone else skate on the pond?" Harry asked. He was having a hard time envisioning either the cold, calculating, distant Mr. Malfoy or the fussing, paranoid Narcissa ice-skating.

"My father used to, when I was little. He's the one who taught me – it's one of the only things he actually taught me himself, instead of hiring a tutor." He glanced at Harry and smiled slightly. "But he doesn't have the time anymore, and Mother hates the cold, so now it's just my friends and me." He shrugged. For a few moments, they walked in silence, Draco remembering the time his father had spent with him and Harry trying (and failing) to picture either Crabbe or Goyle ice-skating.

Then Draco turned to Harry with a gleam in his eyes. "Race you the rest of the way to the house," he said and set off without waiting for Harry's response. Harry just laughed and ran after him.

* * *

A/N: Lizzy: Thanks... I do like that pic, and it does look like they're going to kiss, but probably just because I think they always look like they're going to kiss.  
LightElf 99: I feel so special now. ;D And I'm not slacking off right now... just researching what life at Malfoy Mansion would be like (sort of).  
Number seven: Well, Narcissa probably wouln't have let them go to Diagon Alley either. And they will go to Diagon Alley eventually.  
Kashiaga: And what exactly did you expect to happen? :P  
Trekkie-54: Yeah, that was a sort of boring chapter, but I think they're doing stuff now. Stars-n-moons91: Okay.  
And a million thanks to Katy, who beta-ed this :D (since Orange has abandoned me for now). Also, any suggestions/requests for what they should do over the vacation (other than snog...) will be at the very least seriously considered.  



	20. Robes

They had the dining room to themselves for lunch, since Father was locked up in his study, working on _something,_ and Mother had already eaten. The house-elves brought them soup and hot chocolate, both of which were wonderfully warm after the cold outside.

Draco was sulking, only mildly annoyed with Harry for beating him back to the house but determined to take advantage of the opportunity for revenge.

"Draco…." Harry said for the fourth time, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice.

Draco just glared at him mutely.

"You know, this really isn't fair. It's not like I won by all that much."

Firmly suppressing a smile, Draco took another sip of his hot chocolate.

Harry sighed in frustration. "You are such a sore loser."

Draco decided to ignore that, because explaining that he wasn't a _sore_ loser, merely one who took advantage of every situation including losing, wouldn't make Harry particularly inclined to sympathize with him, which would defeat the purpose of sulking in the first place.

"Do you have to make everything so _difficult_?"

_Of course, _Draco thought, though outwardly he continued to ignore Harry. _Otherwise losing wouldn't be half as much fun._

"Actually, I should be the one pissed at you, after the way you forced me to go skating," Harry pointed out.

"But you had fun," Draco reminded him. "And it's not like you could go through your entire life without ever learning to skate."

"Yes I could," Harry snapped. "I've made it quite nicely so far, haven't I?"

"But your life isn't anywhere near over yet – at least I hope not. You don't have some fatal disease you haven't mentioned, do you?"

"What do you think?"

Draco shrugged. "Just checking. And you just learned to skate, so you can't really argue that you've gotten this far without learning."

"But I made it up until this morning. And it wasn't like I was going to die if I didn't learn."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that? Maybe, if I hadn't taught you to skate, we would have snuck off to Knockturn Alley and met Sirius Black and both have gotten killed."

"Right," Harry said, sounding unconvinced but not particularly interested in arguing.

"And speaking of Knockturn Alley, we still need to get you some decent robes." Draco stood up. "You finished eating?" Harry glanced down at his half-eaten soup, which Draco took to be a 'yes.' He grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room.

They found Mother in the drawing room, talking with the housekeeper, Mrs. Jones (a ghost and the only servant who wasn't a house-elf), presumably arranging Christmas dinner. The two women looked up when Draco and Harry entered.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Harry and I want to go to Diagon Alley," he said bluntly. "To buy Christmas presents."

Mother frowned. "You know I don't like you going off on your own."

"We wouldn't be alone," Draco said quickly. "Crabbe and Goyle would be there. And Pansy, and Theodore…."

"But no adults."

"Pansy's sister, Violet, could take us," Draco suggested.

Mother shook her head. "An _adult_, Draco. A mature, responsible adult."

"Violet is 18. She _is _an adult."

Mother looked as if she was going to say no, but Mrs. Jones said, "You know, it's not as if you wouldn't know if they were in trouble." She gestured towards Mother's signet ring. It was enchanted to alert her, not only of meals and guests, but also if Draco was in danger, and could locate him if necessary. She hesitated for another moment, then sighed. "All right. But don't go off on your own."

Draco grinned. "Thanks."

!-!-!

Pansy's house was another mansion, larger than Malfoy Manor, and somewhat less dark and foreboding. Even the forests and snow-covered grounds seemed somehow brighter and more open than those at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps it was that there was no wall surrounding the Parkinson land, just a dry moat, or perhaps it was that it was built to be wider instead of higher – only two stories high, but sprawling freely over the land with additions built on the ground level instead of as a new story. The gray stones of the walls themselves seemed several shades lighter than those at Malfoy Manor.

Parkinson Manor was actually quite close to Malfoy Manor, well within walking distance. Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom lived in the village near Malfoy Manor, had met Harry and Draco before they left. Tracey and Theodore apparently lived significantly farther away, somewhere in northern England, and they had Flooed to Pansy's house earlier.

Harry and Draco made their way up the path to Pansy's front door, with Crabbe and Goyle looming behind them in their usual bodyguard position – except that that protection seemed to have been extended to Harry as well as Draco. They were greeted at the door by a butler – a tall, human man in simple, black robes. He showed them to the drawing room, a spacious room furnished with several chairs. Pale, wintry light poured in through the windows, and flowers, presumably kept alive and in bloom through some spell or other, added color and warmth to the otherwise chilly room.

Before they had even had a chance to sit down, Pansy entered, closely followed by Tracey, Theodore, and another witch who could only be Pansy's sister, Violet. She was taller than any of them, except perhaps Crabbe or Goyle, and she had Pansy's same straight, dark brown hair; her flat nose and wide, dark eyes; her tall, slender body; and, of course, the same proud confidence that made up for her lack of beauty – at least, when she wasn't sneering.

Tracey, on the other hand, was a short witch with sharp, pale features and blonde hair to rival Draco's.

"So," Violet said in a tone that indicated that she wasn't exactly thrilled to be in charge of seven 13-year-olds. "Let's go."

!-!-!

They Flooed to Diagon Ally, and this time Harry managed to get to the right fireplace, which was a relief. Somehow, he didn't think Draco's friends would be half as understanding of the effects of his Muggle upbringing as the Weasleys had been. The first place they went was to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, to buy Harry new robes. The moment Draco mentioned it, Tracey and Pansy lit up with excitement, while Theodore just rolled his eyes.

Once in the store, Pansy and Tracey set about finding him robes with enthusiasm, ignoring any and all suggestions from Madam Malkin herself, though they let Violet help occasionally, while Draco stood back and watched with amusement and Theodore choked back what was either a gag or laughter. There was a wider variety of styles in Wizarding robes than Harry would ever have dreamed possible: elaborate, floor-length robes that trailed out behind you and had sleeves so long they touched the floor, simple work-type robes like the ones he wore at Hogwarts, one-piece robes, robes meant to be worn over a Muggle-style shirt and pants, elaborate costumes involving six or seven layers of robes, robes with hoods, under-robes, over-robes – each coming in an equally wide variety of patterns and colors. And Pansy and Tracey seemed intent on having him try on every last one.

"Oh, this is lovely," Tracey said, holding up a long, flowing, dark green robe with gold Celtic knots embroidered along the hem. Pansy nodded her agreement, and Tracey handed it to Harry, who cooperatively went to change behind one of the screens set up at the back of the store for that purpose. He would have much preferred an actual changing room, like the ones in the Muggle stores Aunt Petunia used to buy Dudley's clothes at. He was constantly afraid that the screen would fall over or something, despite Pansy's reassurances that the spell holding it upright was strong enough that Crabbe and Goyle could charge at it, head on, and it wouldn't budge.

A few minutes later, he reemerged, feeling utterly ridiculous in the draping, green cloth. Pansy made a show of studying him thoughtfully before giving a decisive nod of approval.

"You look all right," Draco said judicially. "Definitely an improvement over that horrid _Muggle_ getup you usually wear."

"What's wrong with my Muggle clothes?"

Draco stared at him in dismay. "The 'Muggle' part, for starters."

"I feel ridiculous," Harry informed him.

"Why? You actually look _decent,_ for once. It's the Muggle clothes that look ridiculous."

"They do not," Harry protested.

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "I think all that time with those wretched Muggles of yours has scarred you permanently."

"I look stupid."

"You look wonderful," Draco said firmly.

"I _feel _stupid."

"Maybe that's because you are," Draco said sweetly.

"Hey!"

"Of course he's stupid," Theodore muttered. "He's a Gryffindor, isn't he?"

Harry glared at him. "Gryffindors are brave, not stupid."

"Close enough."

"Except the Mudblood," Draco pointed out. "She's hardly stupid."

"Draco!"

"Hmm?"

"She _has_ a name, you know," Harry snapped irritably.

"Most people do," Draco agreed.

Harry continued to glare at Draco until the Slytherin sighed. "Granger then."

"I suppose 'Hermione' would be too much to ask for."

"Do I insist that you call Crabbe and Goyle by their first names?"

"_You _don't even call Crabbe and Goyle by their first names."

"That's beside the point."

"What do you think of this?" Tracey asked, holding up a black robe, embroidered with giant, green snakes.

"We haven't even decided if I'm getting _this _one yet," Harry protested.

"Of course you are," Draco said.

"But—"

"Don't you like the robes?" Madam Malkin asked timidly.

"Not really," Harry said.

"Of course he does," Draco said, ignoring Harry.

"I look like an idiot."

"That's hardly unusual."

"Draco…."

"Would you like a mirror?" Madam Malkin offered helpfully.

"Not especially," Harry muttered.

"Of course he would." Draco smiled sweetly at Harry.

Madam Malkin quickly summoned the mirror and positioned it in front of Harry, looking glad to be doing something useful. She stood back, giving Harry an expectant glance. Harry reluctantly looked at himself, dreading what he might find. A tall, elegant young wizard stared back at him from beneath an uneven black fringe. He didn't look like Harry Potter, the Muggle-raised Hogwarts student who was probably going to fail potions this year; he looked like _Harry Potter_, the Boy-Who-Lived, the hero of the wizarding world who had as a mere _infant_ defeated Voldemort, a wizard so terrible that even now—twelve years later—none dared speak his name. He looked like a character from a legend, or from one of the TV shows Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had forbidden Dudley to watch (though he usually managed to watch them without getting caught anyways).

"See, you look handsome," Pansy said from behind him, grinning as Draco gave her a fiercely possessive look.

"I look … different," Harry said.

"Do you like it?" Tracey asked.

"Not really," Harry said. _Well, maybe…. But I don't look like _me_. I look like a … _wizard_…._

"Are you going to buy it?" Madam Malkin asked.

_No._

"Of course," Draco said, as if the mere suggestion that he might not was offensive.

Harry glared at him, but Draco just grinned and kissed him. Harry felt his cheeks flame as Madam Malkin blanched.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "_This_ is what I get for hanging around with a bunch of girls and faggots," he muttered in disgust.

Crabbe and Goyle were shifting uncomfortable, carefully looking away from Harry and Draco. Harry felt his blush deepen, but Draco was grinning. He turned to Madam Malkin, handing her a handful of galleons.

As she scurried to pack their other purchases in bags, Harry moved towards the screen at the back of the store, eager to get back into his own clothes, but Draco caught his hand.

"Come on, you look nice like this."

Harry sighed and watched with a sinking heart as his Hogwarts robes were stuffed into bags along with everything else.

* * *

A/N: Yes, chapter 20 is finally up (my Christmas present to ya'll?). And yes, it took me **_for__ever_**. Sorry about that. ::sweatdrop:: I'll try to update again sooner. (Key word: "try") 

Stars-n-moons91: Thanks, I'll see if I can work something like that in.Lizzy: More snogging will come later, of course. XD  
LightElf 99/AJ James: Thanks for the suggestion.  
Kashiaga: Then I think I can guess. ;)  
Ranvier and Number seven: Thanks.  
And to Orange, thank you so much for betaing. :D


	21. Krell's

Harry, Pansy, Tracey, and Theodore made their way down Diagon Alley. Violet had met up with some of her friends after they had left Madam Malkin's, and Draco had vanished along with Crabbe and Goyle not long after. The street was filled with crowds of busy shoppers, wrapped in heavy cloaks and fur robes against the frosty air. Snow was piled on the roofs of the shops, trickling down onto the heads of unwary shoppers as it melted in the heat of the day, and the streets were filled with slush. Harry was surprised to find that his new robes kept him perfectly warm, though he still felt somewhat ridiculous in them. He kept glancing around to see if anyone else was dressed as outrageously as he was. Almost everyone was, of course. Perhaps not all were quite as gaudy as his, but everyone was wearing similar robes. On them, however, it looked perfectly natural—what else would wizards wear but robes? Oh him, they just looked silly.

"Oh, Diagon Alley's always so beautiful in the winter, isn't it?" Pansy said, gazing around at the snow covered street and grinning.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "All covered with muddy sludge and ice, Just charming."

"No, it's beautiful," Pansy protested. "You just have to look at it the right way."

"How?" Theodore asked. "By ignoring all the mud and dirt and cold? The poverty stricken, starving wretches teaming in the streets? Oh, but I forgot. Diagon Alley doesn't have any dirt, or poverty; _Mudbloods _aren't poor. The Ministry sees to that—_Dumbledore _sees to that. No, shove all those money-less sods over to Knockturn Alley—let the Purebloods deal with them. The only reason Diagon Alley's so pretty is because they shove all the poverty over us purebloods. After all, _we're _rich. We can afford to be plagued with worthless drunks and beggars and worse. We _live _for the dark arts, and who better to help us with that than the scum of society. And what filth the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers can't dump on us, they hide beneath an shiny veneer of quixotic speeches about 'love' and 'charity' and 'equality' and other such Muggle-loving nonsense. You know, the only reason Knockturn Alley is such a mess is because every poor, drunken, homeless sod ends up there. Because Diagon Alley doesn't have _poverty_; the _Wizarding World _doesn't have poverty. Only us bigoted, old fashioned _Purebloods_. But you know who those poor arses are, who litter our streets? Mudbloods, squibs, half-breeds, all of them! Are there any purebloods begging and homeless on the streets? No! Why not? Because we work hard and think with our brains, not our stomachs or our hearts or our dicks. And yet, it's always us who get saddled with—"

"Oh, give it up already, will you?" Pansy cut him off. "You're preaching to the choir here. Save it for the Ministry."

Tracey snorted. "Yeah, like _they'll _listen. Everyone's all pro-Muggle, ever since You-Know-Who. Out of guilt, you know? Spineless sods. And if anyone raises any objection to Muggles or Mudbloods, you're automatically labeled as one of _His _supporters. A neo–Death Eater or whatever. And never mind fact that Muggles have gone around bloody _burning us at the stake _for centuries! Never mind that Mudbloods would offer up their own spouse or child to avoid being burned. Oh no, _that's _in the _past_. That could never happen again. Muggles are people too, you know. Yeah, right up until they start burning us again."

"But they won't," Theodore said. "Not as long as they don't know about us. See, that's why we can't let Muggles know. Cause if they do find out, no one'll be left to say 'I told you so'."

Pansy glanced at Harry. "Didn't you grow up with Muggles?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Well, they weren't so bad, were they?"

Harry hesitated. "Well … the Dursleys aren't exactly, uh, typical Muggles. I mean, _they _were pretty wretched people, but it's not like _all _Muggles are like that."

"Of course not," Theodore said sarcastically. "I bet _you've _met loads of nice, wizard-friendly Muggles."

"Of course i have," Harry said, trying to think of some. _Well, the Grangers count, don't they?_

"Who weren't parents of mudbloods?" Theodore persisted.

"Sure," Harry said. "I mean, I went to Muggle primary school until I was 11."

"And I'm sure everyone there was nice to you, not knowing you were a wizard or anything."

_Well, actually no, they weren't, but…. _"That doesn't mean they wouldn't have been nice to me if they _had _known. It's not like they've had a chance to prove themselves either way."

"Yeah," Tracey muttered. "'Cause if they had, you wouldn't be here to talk about it."

"Oh come on, it's not like a bunch of teenaged muggles are going to _kill _me," Harry protested. _Not even the Durlseys have gone **that** far. Yet…._

"Sure they won't," Nott said, not sounding particularly convinced. "Well, most of them won't. But what about the nutcase who does?"

"I can take care of myself. I'm a wizard—"

"Yeah, and get kicked out of Hogwarts," Nott pointed out. "Defend yourself once, loose your wand forever. Where're are you then?"

Harry looked away.

"And a merry Christmas to you, too, Theodore," Pansy said in annoyance. "Why, isn't it such a _lovely _day to be threatening Draco's boyfriend with death? I wonder the rest of the school thinks Slytherins are all bloody arses?"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Hmm… Maybe because we actually have a sense of dignity?"

Pansy shook her head in disgust and turned to Harry. "So, have you bought Draco a present yet?"

"I haven't really had a chance…."

"Then you'd better get on it," Theodore said. "Draco's very big on presents."

Pansy grinned. "Draco still hasn't forgiven Theodore for 'forgetting' to get him a Christmas present the year the Notts weren't invited to the Malfoys' Christmas party. Six years ago."

"They were best friends before that, you know," Tracey said in amusement. "But Draco wouldn't even _speak _to Theodore for _years. _Not until Snape forced him to on our second day after starting at Hogwarts. Said he didn't want Slytherin House to start off divided. It wouldn't look good."

"Actually," Theodore said, "Lucius forced Draco to forgive me that summer, but as soon as we got to Hogwarts he stopped talking to me again. And he still brings it up every chance he gets."

Harry winced. That would be a lame way ruin their relationship, and he could definitely see Draco holding it against him for the rest of his life, at least.

"Know what you're going to get him?" Tracey asked.

"No," Harry admitted. "I haven't really thought about it…."

Theodore grinned. "Better be impressive, or Draco'll never forgive you. Beating him half to death and tormenting him nonstop for three years, yes. Getting him a less-than-amazing gift, no."

"I've never beaten him half to death…."

"No," Theodore said. "But Crabbe did once."

"What?"

Pansy smiled. "We were four. Draco wouldn't share his cookies."

"Draco ended up in St. Mungos for two days," Theodore continued. "Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't let any of us see him again for _months_."

"And Draco _forgave _Crabbe?" Harry asked, appalled.

"After Crabbe gave him some cookies."

"…I haven't tormented him for years, either."

Theodore raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"He wouldn't leave _me _alone."

Theodore blinked. "That's not what he said."

"What did he say?"

Tracey shrugged. "Usually, that you were a hypocritical, stuck-up, Muggle-loving little brat and wouldn't stop harassing him about every little thing he did."

"I never harassed him about anything," Harry protested. "It was always him—"

Pansy cleared her throat. "Presents. For Draco."

"Hmm…" Tracey said. "Something special…."

"Yes, I think we already established that," Theodore said.

"Something unique," Tracey continued, ignoring Theodore. "Something you can't just walk into a store and buy."

"Or rather, something _he _couldn't just walk into a store and buy," Pansy said. "And he can buy anything he wants. Well, except those dark magic books his parents won't let him have, but he usually has Vincent or Gregory buy him those."

"Something shiny…" Tracey murmured.

"What?" Harry said, startled.

"He likes shiny things," she said. "And glittery things. And pretty things in general."

"Well, except for boyfriends, apparently," Theodore muttered.

Harry glared at him.

"_Theodore_," Pansy said in irritation.

"What? It's true. Or was Harry covered with glitter when Draco met him?"

Tracey looked at Harry thoughtfully. "I don't know; his glasses are kind of shiny."

"And his eyes are all green and pretty," Pansy added.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "I'm sure."

Harry squirmed under the girls' scrutiny. "Er… presents?"

"Right," Pansy said. "Well, I'm giving him one of my great-great-great-grandfather's world domination instruction booklets. They aren't very practical, of course, but they are fun."

"My uncle's smuggling him in a miniature dragon from Japan," Theodore said.

"And I'm giving him some photos of the Weird Sisters," Tracey said. "My cousin's dating Donaghan Tremlett, and she managed to get some awesome pictures of Kirley Duke."

"Your cousin's dating Donaghan Tremlett?" Theodore said incredulously.

Tracey nodded.

"And your family's okay with this? Isn't he a mudblood?"

"Well, yes he is, and her parents were a bit weird about it at first, but they've gotten over it. They just never talk to her anymore. But _my _parents don't mind me hanging out with her."

"Have you actually met them?" Pansy asked. "The Weird Sisters, I mean."

Tracey shook her head. "Only Donaghan. He's pretty nice, as long as you don't bring up the subject of parents—his _or _Lina's."

"What'd _his _parents do?" Pansy asked.

"They're _Muggles_," Theodore said. "Of course they were horrible to him."

"They wanted him to get a job in the Muggle World and forget about the Wizarding World," Tracey explained. "He refused."

"Didn't _Witch Weekly_ say they beat him when he was a kid?" Pansy asked.

"No, I asked him about that and he said his parents were perfect, other than the whole wizard thing."

"See?" Theodore said triumphantly. "Muggles hate us. Even the best of them are fine until you get to the whole magic thing. Then they start beating the crap out of you."

"But he said his parents _didn't _beat him." Pansy protested.

"Well, who knows what really happened," Theodore said. "I mean, would you tell people if your parents were beating you? He probably wants to be pro-Muggle and popular and everything. Arsehole."

"_Theodore!_" Pansy glared at him.

"You should get Draco Kirley Duke for Christmas," Theodore said suddenly.

"Er.…"

"Petrify him, tie a bow on his head, and stick him under the Christmas tree." Theodore continued. "Draco will be thrilled. Ecstatic even."

"That would definitely outdo my gift," Tracey said.

Pansy shook her head. "I don't think they sell him anywhere on Diagon Alley."

"How about Knockturn Alley?" Tracey suggested. "They've got all sorts of stuff there."

Pansy shook her head again. "I don't think they sell guitarists from popular bands."

"Any other suggestions?" Harry asked.

"Well, what can you give him that no one else can?" Pansy asked.

Theodore and Tracey exchanged a look and Harry blushed.

"That you wouldn't mind giving him in front of his parents," Pansy amended.

"Damn, that narrows things down," Theodore muttered.

Tracey kicked him.

"I don't know," Harry said.

"What do you have? What can you get him that he can't get himself?"

_Well, Hagrid might be able to get him something,_ Harry thought, ignoring Tracey and Theodore's knowing glances._ But Theodore's already getting him a dragon…._

"Money isn't what counts," Pansy continued, glaring at Tracey and Theodore. "Anything expensive enough to impress him is well out of your price range, unless your parents left you an entire country or something."

_My parents left me a lot, but not _that _much._

"So it has to be something that only you have access to."

Harry frowned, thinking. _The invisibility cloak? No, he could probably get one on his own. And anyways, it was my _father's_. It's all I have left of him. The Marauder's Map? But I left it at Hogwarts. And it was a Christmas present from Fred and George. I can't just give it away. _"I don't really have … anything," Harry said after a moment.

"How can you not have _anything_?" Tracey asked. "I mean, I know Draco's hard to shop for, but really…."

"Hey, I grew up with Muggles who didn't give me squat, okay?" Harry said defensively. _I guess I could probably get him a TV or something, but I don't think he'd be thrilled with that. After all, what does he need with a TV? He's a wizard._

"Well, what do you have?" Pansy asked patiently.

"Let's see: some text books, some school robes—now a bunch of other robes, too; oversized, worn out, colorless Muggle clothes—think he'd like those?"

"_Harry_," Pansy said in annoyance.

"What? That's what I've got."

"Okay, what else?"

"My Nimbus 2000? My owl, Hedwig? A few Famous Wizards Cards? My wand?"

Theodore snorted.

Harry blushed. "I meant—oh shut up, you know what I meant."

"Anything else?" Pansy prompted.

"…Socks?"

"Right," Tracey muttered.

"Okay, so what can you do?" Pansy asked.

Tracey and Theodore choked.

"Minds out of the gutter, if you don't mind," Pansy snapped.

"Play Quidditch? Kill Voldemort?"

The other three winced.

"—Not to mention saying his name."

Theodore shook his head. "I wouldn't suggest doing that for Draco.

"No," Tracey agreed. "I don't think he'd like that.

"So, what else?" Pansy persisted.

"Get Snape pissed at me?"

"Oh, any non-Slytherin can do that," Tracey said. "Hell, any _Slytherin _can do that."

"According to Trelawney, die painful and gruesome deaths."

"I don't think Draco would like that very much," Tracey said.

"Though the rest of us might," Theodore muttered.

Pansy glared at him. "Shut up, Theodore. If Draco's not happy, no one's happy. He'll make sure of it. Anything else?"

"Um… fly hippogriffs? Pass out whenever I see a dementor?"

Pansy made a face. "Ugh, I _hate _dementors. They're horrible, horrible creatures."

Harry couldn't help but agree. "Speak Parseltongue?" he offered.

"So, can you talk to _any_ snake with Parseltongue?" Theodore asked, glancing at Harry's crotch.

"Er… any **real** snake—you know, with scales and everything."

"What about—"

"_Theodore!_" Pansy snapped.

Harry felt himself blushing. "No, I can't. Not with Parseltongue, anyways."

"That's too bad," Tracey commented. "I think it would fun to have a lover who spoke Parseltongue whenever they saw you naked."

"I don't know," Pansy said. "I think it would get annoying after a while. I mean, you'd never know what they were saying…."

"You could get him a snake for Christmas," Tracey suggested.

"A _big _snake," Theodore added.

"Doesn't Mrs. Malfoy have that ghastly fear of snakes?" Pansy asked.

Theodore sighed. "Yeah. When Draco and I caught a snake and hid it in her closet, I think she nearly had a heart attack. She grounded Draco for ages."

"That explains why Draco's an only child," Tracey said. Pansy glared at her.

"So much for the snakes then," Harry said. "Any other suggestions?"

For a time, they walked in silence, pondering.

"How about a Pensieve?" Theodore asked after a few moments.

Harry blinked. "A what?"

"A Pensieve," Theodore repeated. "A bowl that catches your thoughts or memories so you can look over them and organize them, or share them with other people."

"Yeah, so you could share your memories with him, since you don't seem to have much of anything else," Pansy said, nodding.

"…And where exactly would I find a—Pensieve?"

Pansy, Tracey and Theodore looked at each other.

"Do you think Krell's sells them?" Tracey asked.

Pansy shrugged. "I don't know."

"Of course he sells Pensieves," Theodore said. "He sells all sorts of junk like that—and if he doesn't, I'll bet he can get one for you by Christmas."

"Anyways, I haven't had a chance to go there since school started," Tracey said.

"Isn't there somewhere else we could buy one?" Pansy asked. "I hate going through Knockturn Alley. It's so—creepy."

"Come on, I barely ever get to see Krell during the school year," Theodore said.

Tracey nodded. "Yeah."

"Who's Krell?" Harry asked.

"And Harry needs to meet him," Tracey added.

"Yeah, come on Pansy."

Pansy sighed. "Oh, all right."

They turned onto Knockturn Alley, making their way down the street. Tracey and Theodore seemed perfectly comfortable walking past barrows of dried scalps and stores windows proudly displaying jars of pickled dragon livers or harpy scalps. They didn't even seem to see the starving, toothless old men sitting at street corners, begging for food or money; the drunks lying unconscious in the gutters; the blind old women, reaching out to grab at the robes of passersby. Only Pansy seemed ill at ease here; she was looking around with a frightened, nervous expression that matched Harry's own feelings. However, Harry _was _relieved to see even Tracey and Theodore move a little closer to each other as they walked.

After a few minutes, Tracey glanced at Harry, giving a reassuring smile. "Krell's awesome," she said. "He has the most amazing shop—all sorts of random trinkets everywhere."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure."

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they finally came to a stop. In front of the same, dingy old store that Draco had taken him to. At least, Harry thought it was the same—he couldn't actually remember it that clearly, but how many nameless stores could there _be_ on Knockturn Alley. They entered the store, and Harry saw that it was, indeed, the same shop. And there was the same young man, lounging behind the counter and reading a magazine.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Theodore asked, gesturing broadly at the cheery clutter inside.

"Yeah. Draco took me here right after we got off the Hogwarts Express," Harry said.

"And he didn't bother to introduce you to Krell?" Tracey asked, appalled.

Harry shook his head.

"Arse," Theodore muttered.

"Well, this is Krell," Tracey said, nodding at the man behind the counter.

_Krell, _Harry thought, rolling the strange name around inside his head._ So that's his name…._

Krell looked up, idly pushing up his glasses. He smiled at them. "Hi." For a moment, he glanced at Harry, his eyes flickering over Harry, briefly focusing on his forehead before fixing on his eyes again. Harry felt his stomach flip under the man's scrutiny. "Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded. Of course he knew who Harry was; everyone in the Wizarding World knew him.

"You're the boy who came here with Draco, right?" Krell asked.

Harry nodded again, suppressing his elation at the fact that Krell had remembered him.

"Yeah," Tracey said. "Harry's staying with Draco over Christmas break. They're dating." She paused, giving Krell and expectant look.

Harry's mouth went dry as he waited for Krell's response.

But he simply smiled and said, "I thought Draco hated you." He looked more amused than anything else, much to Tracey's disappointment and Harry's relief.

Harry hesitated. "Er… It's a long story."

"Where is Draco, anyways?"

"He wandered off with Gregory and Vincent a while ago," Tracey said. "So Harry's here to buy him a Christmas present."

Krell smiled. "Of course. So, were you looking for anything in particular?"

"Actually," Pansy said, "he wanted to get him a Pensieve. Preferably one small enough to carry around easily."

Krell lead them over to one of the tables, one in the corner of the shop. It was covered with jars filled with insect bodies and powders; bottles of various multicolored fluids; bowls filled to the brim with liquids glowing in a variety of colors; cauldrons in a range of different sizes, some empty, some filled countless different substances. He began looking through the bowls, which Harry assumed must be Pensieves, occasionally stopping to inspect one before moving on. "So, how's school been? Anything interesting happen? Other than Draco finally finding himself a boyfriend, of course."

"What do you mean 'finally'?" Theodore asked.

Krell ignored him, picking up another Pensieve. It was one of the smaller ones there, small enough that Krell could hold it comfortably in one hand. It was made of a smooth, dark green material that shone like glass in the warm light of the store, and it was filled with a glowing, silvery liquid. "How about this one? Room for over thirty-seven years of memories and small enough to fit in your pocket. It even comes with a lid, so you don't have to worry about it spilling."

"Er…." Harry said, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Thirty-seven years of memories?" Tracey asked. "You really think they'll ever have that many memories? I mean, even if they each recorded every waking hour of their lives, it would still take them twenty-four more years to fill up."

Krell blinked. "I thought you were terrible at math."

Tracey shrugged. "Yeah, but Arithmancy's fun. And you have to do a lot of arithmetic in Arithmancy."

"Of course."

"It's perfect," Pansy said, looking at the Pensieve.

"That'll be 17 galleons."

"_Seventeen_?" Theodore said, appalled. "You could buy a unicorn horn for less than that."

Pansy blinked. "Since when?"

Theodore shrugged. "You just have to know where to look."

Krell laughed. "But you can't record thirty-seven years worth of memories with a unicorn's horn. However, since it's Christmas I'll give it to you for 9 galleons and 16 sickles."

Theodore stared. "_Nine_? That's almost half the original price."

Krell smiled. "'Tis the season."

"Come on, Theo," Pansy said in annoyance. "You're not going to argue with him over _that_, are you?"

"So, do you know how to use this?" Krell asked Harry.

"Not really," Harry admitted, once again feeling painfully ignorant of the Wizarding World. Draco's friends had a way of doing that to him.

But Krell just nodded, smiling at him and moved around behind the counter. He set the Pensieve down and looked at Harry. "Okay," he said, brushing his hair back out of his face. "First think of a memory you wouldn't mind sharing with a few people."

"_Erm_…" Harry frowned, trying to come up with an appropriate memory. Finally, he settled on the memory of flying Buckbeak during Care of Magical Creatures. He thought that was innocent enough, without being overly boring.

"Have one?" Krell asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, look into the Pensieve. Now hold your wand over it and start stirring, like this." Harry tensed as he felt Krell's hands on his, guiding them into a slow, gentle circular motion. His hands were pleasantly warm and dry against Harry's; his fingers were slightly calloused, but other than that, his palms were surprisingly smooth. "Now, close your eyes and focus on the memory," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Harry obeyed, carefully picturing the events in his mind.

"Now say, '_memoraim relego_'."

"_Memoraim relego!_" Harry repeated. Almost instantly, he felt a tugging running up his arm and to his head, pulling at the memory.

In a matter of moments, the entire memory flashed before his eyes, like a movie on fast forward, only with sounds and feelings and smells, too.

When it was gone, Harry opened his eyes. He stared into the Pensieve, which now contained his memory, playing like a soundless television.

"It's as easy as that," Krell said. "Now, if you want to get rid of a memory, focus on blankness and say '_memoriam deleo'_. And if you want to clear all the memories, you say '_memorias deleo._'"

Harry closed his eyes, blanking his mind. "_Memoriam deleo!_" he said. The memory vanished and Harry handed Krell the money as Krell found a box for the Pensieve and bagged it. "Anything else?" he asked, handing over the bag.

Tracey shrugged. For a while, they browsed the shop. Harry still had to find gifts for Hermione and Ron.

"So, where's Blaise?" Krell asked conversationally.

"He's been pissed at Draco ever since he found about him and Harry," Tracey said.

"Really?"

"He has a point, of course," Theodore said. Harry stared intently at the stuffed dragons squirming on the rack in front of him. "I mean, a couple months ago Potter and Draco were beating each others' brains out. Now they're screwing each others' brains out."

Harry felt his face heat as he willed the conversation to move on to something else.

"_Theodore_," Pansy said in annoyance.

"Yes?"

Pansy gave an irritated sigh.

"There're dementors all around the school now," Tracey said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"So I'd heard," Krell said.

"I hate them," Pansy said. "They're so creepy. And you can't leave the castle without running into them."

"They don't even stay where they're supposed to be," Tracey added. "They showed up at the game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"It was supposed to be between Slytherin and Gryffindor," Pansy said. "But Draco got attacked by the hippogriff Professor Hagrid was showing us during Care of Magical Creatures, so they had to reshuffle the games so he could play."

"Got attacked?" Krell asked. "I thought hippogriffs were usually pretty docile unless you attacked them."

"Draco insulted him," Harry said.

"Ah."

"Anyways, Harry passed out when the dementors showed up and Hufflepuff _won_," Theodore said, sounding thrilled.

Harry stiffened and picked up a small, squirming toy mouse from a pile of stuffed animals. The moment he touched it, its legs began moving wildly in the air, as though it were trying to run away.

"It was horrible," Pansy said. "Watching Harry fall like that—"

"It was amazing," Theodore said. "I thought he was going to hit the ground and _die_."

Harry picked up postcard, watching intently as a clear, blue-green ocean lapped at white, sandy shores.

"But he didn't," Tracey said. "Dumbledore saved him."

"If the dementors hadn't been there, Gryffindor might have won," Pansy said. "It's not fair."

"Yeah, but now we have a chance at winning the Quidditch Cup this year," Theodore pointed out.

"And better to be surrounded by dementors than attacked by a serial killer," Krell pointed out.

"But they couldn't even keep out said killer," Pansy protested.

"What?" Krell sounded horrified.

"Sirius Black got into the castle somehow and slashed up one of the portraits," Harry told him, looking up from the table of old magazines he'd been looking at.

Krell looked appalled.

"We all had to sleep in the Great Hall that night," Pansy said.

"Dementors all around the castle and Black _still_ managed to get in," Krell murmured, sounding both frightened and impressed.

"Well, he _did_ manage to escape from Azkaban," Theodore pointed out. "He got past them once; quite clearly he can do it again."

"And Dumbledore's allowing you to wander Knockturn Alley unsupervised?" Krell asked Harry, dismayed.

"Well, he doesn't exactly know…."

Krell shook his head. "Do you know how much danger you're in, wandering around without anyone knowing where you are? With _him_ on the loose? He killed your parents, Harry. He's going to try to kill you."

"But he doesn't know where I am," Harry pointed out.

"He got past a million dementors. Who knows what he can do?"

"Oh come on, there are tons of people around," Theodore protested. "Black wouldn't dare attack him here."

"You want to bet?" Krell asked. "He killed an entire street full of innocent people—"

"What?" Tracey's eyes widened.

"How do you know that?" Theodore asked.

Krell shook his head. "Never mind. My—" He sighed. "My sister was there. She was just out—to do some shopping. And then…." He shook his head again, pushing his hair back and sighing. "He won't hesitate to kill in broad daylight, or in a crowd. If he wants you dead and he sees you, you're dead. He spent twelve years in Azkaban, Harry. He's hardly stable."

Pansy looked terrified. Even Tracey and Theodore looked uneasy.

"So, how's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Krell asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

"Professor Lupin? He's all right," Theodore said.

"He's the best we've had so far," Tracey said.

"That's not saying much," Theodore replied. "He always wears such ratty clothes—can't he afford anything better? And he's so pro-Muggle."

"He's really nice, though," Pansy said. "And he's a good teacher. Everyone likes him."

"Everyone?" Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, Snape doesn't," Pansy acquiesced. "And you don't, really. And neither does Draco, but I think that's just because Snape doesn't."

"But he _is _a good teacher," Tracey insisted.

"He is," Harry agreed, smiling slightly. Lupin was an amazing teacher.

One of the tables was heaped with board games. In the center, there was a box filled with loose pieces, Harry supposed in case you'd lost some. A few of the boards didn't even have boxes, though the pieces seemed stuck to the surface with some sort of adhesive spell. Harry watched in fascination as chess pieces shaped like dragons danced across one such board.

He looked up, startled, as the door opened and an annoyed-looking Draco entered the shop, followed by an exasperated Violet, and then Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were carrying several bags filled with presents.

Draco's irritated frown faded to a smile when he saw Harry. "Oh, hello Harry," he said, walking over and kissing him. Tracey and Pansy grinned. Theodore rolled his eyes and looked away in disgust. Harry blushed. "I see you've met Krell."

"Yes."

Draco walked over to one of the tables and lifted a fancy, silver brooch. "Think Mother will like this?"

"Ten galleons," Krell said.

Draco handed him the money. "We should probably get going—before Mother has a fit."

Harry quickly paid for the gifts he'd picked out for Ron and Hermione—the toy mouse for Hermione, which he thought Crookshanks might like, and one of the chess sets for Ron, since his was so old it was practically falling apart, not to mention that the pieces of this one still stuck to the board which would make playing without a table easier—and they left the store.

* * *

A/N: Isn't Christmas Break wonderful? No school for a whole week. ; D See what I can do without school? Chapter 21, about twice as long as 20, and just in time for 2005. (...now, about finishing those other fics ::sweatdrop::) 

Anywho, thanks for the reviews.  
Amanda-panda161: Thanks. And who knows what'll happen with their relationship? They can't be all lovey-dovey forever, you know--it'd get boring. (well, maybe not, but...)  
Meg5390, Angel, and OniyuriGaaru: Thanks  
And Orange: Thanks so much for beta-ing, and for letting me nag you to death about characterization and such. XD Love ya.


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